IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


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HiolDgFEiphic 

^Sciences 

CorpQratiQn 


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23  wht  mam  itmit 

W«MTn,N.V.  ;4SM 
(7U)t72-4S03 


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"\ 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHIVI/iCiVIH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Carwdian  Inttitut*  for  Historical  IMicroraproductiont  /  Inttitut  Canadian  da  mieroraproduct.ons  historiquas 


Tachnical  and  BibUographic  Notaa/Notaa  tachniquaa  at  MbUographiquaa 


Tha  Inttituta  haa  attamptad  to  obtain  tha  baat 
original  copy  availabia  for  filming.  Faaturaa  of  thia 
copy  which  may  ba  bibliographicaMy  uniqua. 
which  may  altar  any  of  tha  imagaa  in  tha 
raproduction,  or  which  may  aignificantly  changa 
tha  usual  mathod  of  filming,  ara  chackad  balow. 


D 


D 


D 
D 


D 


D 


Colourad  covars/ 
Couvartura  da  coulaur 


I     I   Covars  damagad/ 


Couvartura  andommagia 

Covars  rastorad  and/or  laminatad/ 
Couvartura  rastaurAa  at/ou  palliculAa 


I — I   Covar  titia  missing/ 


Le  titre  da  couvartura  manqua 


□   Colourad  maps/ 
Cartas  gAographiquas  an  coulaur 


Colourad  inic  (i.a.  othar  than  blua  or  black)/ 
Encra  da  coulaur  (i.a.  autra  qua  blaua  ou  noira) 

Colourad  platas  and/or  illustrations/ 
Planchas  at/ou  illuatrations  wx  coulaur 


□   Bound  with  othar  matarial/ 
RaliA  avac  d'wutras  documants 


n 


Tight  binding  may  causa  shadows  or  distortion 
along  intarior  margin/ 

La  re  liura  sarr^e  paut  causar  da  I'ombra  ou  da  la 
distortion  la  long  da  la  marga  intiriaura 

Blank  laavas  addad  during  rastoration  may 
appaar  within  the  text.  Whanavar  possibia,  thasa 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  paut  que  certainas  pages  blanchas  ajoutias 
lors  d'une  restauration  apparaissant  dans  la  taxta, 
mais,  lorsque  cela  itait  possibia,  cas  pagas  n'ont 
pas  it*  filmies. 

Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  supplimentaires; 


L'Institut  a  microfHmA  la  maWaur  examplatara 
qu'li  lul  a  *t4  poaalbia  da  sa  procurar.  Laa  details 
da  eat  axamplaira  qui  aont  paut-Atra  unlquaa  du 
point  da  vua  bibliographiqua.  qui  pauvant  modifier 
una  imaga  raproduKa,  ou  qui  pauvant  axiger  una 
iiiOdificatlon  dans  la  mAthoda  normala  da  filmaga 
sont  indiquis  ci-daaaoua. 


|~~|  Colourad  pages/ 


Pagaa  da  coulaur 

Pagas  damagad/ 
Pagas  andommagies 

Pages  restored  and/oi 

Pagas  reataurias  at/ou  palliculAaa 

Pagas  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 
Pagas  dAcolorias.  tachatAes  ou  piquies 

Pages  datached/ 
Pages  ditachias 

Showthroughy 
Transparanca 

Quality  of  prir 

Qualit*  inAgala  da  rimprassion 

Includes  supplamantary  matarli 
Comprand  du  materiel  supplimantaira 

Only  adition  availabia/ 
Saula  Mition  disponibia 


r~n   Pagaa  damagad/ 

|~~1   Pages  reatorad  and/or  laminatad/ 


I     I   Pages  datached/ 

rri   Showthrough/ 

r[T  Quality  of  print  varies/ 

rn   Includes  supplamantary  matarial/ 

I — I   Only  adition  availabia/ 


The 
toti 


The 
post 
of  tl 
film 


Orif 
beg 
the 
sior 
othi 
first 
sior 
oril 


Tha 
she 
TIN 

whi 

Mai 
diff 
anti 
bag 
rigl 
raqi 
met 


D 


Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  arrata 
slips,  tissuas,  ate,  hava  baan  raf limed  to 
anaure  the  best  possible  imaga/ 
Laa  pages  totaiement  ou  partiallamant 
obscurcias  par  un  fauillat  d'arrata,  una  palure. 
etc..  ont  it*  filmias  i  nouveau  da  fa^on  i 
obtanir  la  meillaura  imaga  posslMa. 


This  itam  is  filmed  at  tha  reduction  ratio  chackad  balow/ 

Ce  document  ast  filmi  au  taux  da  riduction  indiqui  cl-daasous. 


10X 


14X 


ItX 


22X 


2tX 


aox 


7^ 


12X 


16X 


20X 


aix 


ax 


32X 


Th«  copy  f ilmad  h«r«  has  b««n  r«produe«d  thanks 
to  th«  gMMTOsity  of: 

SamiMry  of  QiMbac 
Library 


L'oaomploiro  fiim4  fut  roproduit  grico  A  la 
OAnArooitA  do: 

S4iniiMira  d«  QuMmc 
BiMiotMqu* 


Tho  imogoo  oppooring  horo  aro  tho  boat  qiiallty 
poaaiblo  conaidaring  tha  eondltion  and  lagibiUty 
of  tho  original  copy  artd  in  Itaaping  with  tha 
filming  contract  spacificatlona. 


Laa  imagaa  auivantaa  ont  Ati  raproduito*  avoc  la 
plua  grand  soin.  compto  tonu  do  la  condition  at 
do  la  nattatA  da  raxamplaira  filmA.  at  ^n 
conformity  avac  laa  conditions  du  contrat  do 
fllmaga. 


Original  copioo  in  printad  papar  covora  ara  filmad 
baginning  with  tha  front  covor  oitd  ending  on 
tho  last  paga  with  a  printad  or  illustratad  Impraa* 
sion.  or  tho  back  covor  whon  appropriata.  All 
othor  originol  copies  ara  filmad  baginning  on  tho 
first  paga  with  a  printad  or  illustratad  impraa> 
sion.  and  anding  on  tho  last  paga  with  a  printad 
or  illustratad  imprassion. 


Laa  axampiairas  orlginauK  dont  la  couvorturo  sn 
poplar  aat  imprimAe  sont  filmis  on  commoncant 
por  lo  promior  plot  ot  on  torminant  soit  par  la 
darniira  paga  qu)  comporto  uno  smprsinto 
d'improaaion  ou  d'iiiustration.  soit  par  lo  second 
plat,  salon  la  cas.  Tous  los  sutros  axomplairss 
originauK  sont  filmts  an  commoncant  par  la 
pramiira  pago  qui  comports  una  smprsinto 
d'improssion  ou  d'iiiustration  at  sn  tsrminsnt  psr 
la  darniAra  paga  qui  comports  una  tslls 
omprointo. 


Tho  last  racordod  frama  on  oach  microf icho 
shall  contain  tho  symbol  — ^>  (moaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  tho  symbol  ▼  (moaning  "END"), 
whichavar  applias. 


Un  das  symboios  suivsnts  sppsrsitrs  sur  Is 
darnlAra  imaga  da  chaqua  microfiche,  salon  le 
cas:  ie  symboie  — ^  signifie  "A  SUIVRE".  le 
symboio  V  signifie  "FIN". 


Maps,  plates,  cherts,  etc..  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratioa.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  OKposuro  ara  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  loft  hend  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  aa  many  frames  aa 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  tho 
method: 


Lea  cartes,  planches,  tableeux,  etc.,  peuvent  Atre 
fiimte  i  doe  taux  da  rMuction  diffAronts. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grend  pour  Atre 
roproduit  en  un  soul  ciichA.  ii  est  filmA  A  psrtir 
do  I'angia  supArieur  geuche.  do  gauche  A  droite. 
ot  do  haut  en  bee.  on  prenant  le  nombre 
d'imagea  nAcaeaaira.  Las  diagremmes  suivsnts 
iilustrent  le  mAthodo. 


1 

2 

3 

■-* 


tBl^itl«t»  IcilOQt,. 


'^v 


>■•■ 


"t* 


III  '   »\ 


/ 


THB 

M^TROPOimN 

SECOND  READER:  I 


II 


OARBTULLT    ARRAHOKD 

IN  PROSE  AND 

FOR  THE  USE  OF 


•'««:"?5"?i''gg^ 


'jiTWiiilia^SiaafiTtiBri"'; ' 


>***' 


r«r«r«vlii« 


BrA*JLtA]»Ill*oa. 


#' 


V^- 


Thirb  Is  neoeflsarify  but  fitde  differeiioe 
between  the  First  and  Second  Readem  it 
is  the  same  idea  a  iittle  Inrtiber  derek^ped. 
The  children  who  nse  the  Second  Beader  ape 
bat  little  in  advance  of  those  who  nse  the 
First  The  siiine  stories  interaat  Ibtoi,  te 
same  pictores  are  admired,  the  same  spdliag 
lessons  are  to  be  mastered.  The  k^Kms^  how* 
ever,  are  somewhat  different  in  ihdr  sfyle 
and  character,  addreaiing  themselTes  to  the 
expanding  minds  of  the  learners,  yet  atifl 
preserving  the  simplidly  «iid  trawqiiiiiy 
adapted  to  the  nndenitanding  of  the  child. 

A  little  more  poetcj  has  bena  admiMl  iMK^ 
this  second  bocikf  as  Ire  tUbk  that  flMiiMr  life* 
portant triltti^Ml^ ^^1^  on  thui^il  bgr 

die  h^p  of  BMrioal  ipDoben*    Tira|pillil 


'. 


i«Maiaa 


6 


PBSVAOS. 


tji 


:   ■ 


,; 


has  eyier  been  found  an  eticient  aid  to  the 
acqiniement  of  knowledge  by  the  very  young, 
and  hence  it  is  that  we  hare,  admitted  a  large 
number  of  pieces,  on  various  subjects,  among 
the  prose  matter  of  the  Second  Reader.  The 
spelling  is  only' a  degree  more  advanced,  as 
w^  hsive  thcmght  it  us^ul  to  keep  the  earlier 
spdOing-leisons  in  the  pApii^s  mind.  :\ 

In  the  Sscottd  as  well  as  in  liie  First  Reader, 
We  have  strictly  fidlbwed  the  advice  of  the 
saintly  F^nelon.  Speaking  of  children,  he 
says:  **Glive  theiil  books  adorned  with  beau- 
tiM  pictures  and  weli^formed  characters;  all 
that  pleases  the  imaginatilm  &dlitates  study. 
S^ect  books  Ml  of  tskiiM  and  pleasing  stones, 
liien  be  not  afirttid  tiluit'  the  iMd  will  not  learn 
to  read  perfecfiy.^  tietlpni  pronounce  natu- 
rally aa  h#^eiks;  oHh^  fKXias  are  always  bad, 
ind  savor  of  college  deehunationa  l^dn  his 
tengtie  becomes  freer,  his  ohest  strong^,  and 
^  haibit  of  veadbg  more  frequent,  he  will 
«ead  wliMlut  dlffiei%v  wlA  more  grace,  and 


%\r      I  III    i»i 


mwMMm 


tmrnmrm 


5SSS 


r, 


mtt'i  ' ' 


Tmmw^em, 


more  dii^idllj.**  WiB  lam  mxv^^  tben,  as 
fiir  as  th^  limits  of  ^tili^fi^  Yoliitiiet  will 
admit  to  realiie^  tlui- advice  of  tjiie  lUnsfcrioiig 
Archbishop.  , 

The  ejignmnjgs  have  been  cai«fiilly  desired 
to  interest  and  ftwaken  tiboitglitil  of  piety  in 
Utde  children ;  fnd  the  lessons  of  easy  leading 
which  iikef  illastratc?  have  been  taken  from 
Canon  Sishmidt,  Faber,  and  other  Callidic 
anthonk 


t«.-i1i1ti'riti.r    » 


W.'..:^i '■.:■: 


!  ■ 

i>  ■ 


if^> 


:<  "^ 


S 


'   t 


« 


L 

a 

m. 

nr. 

V. 

VL 

vn. 
vm. 

IX. 

X. 

XL 

XIL 

XUL 

XIV. 

XV. 

XVL 

XVIL 


CONTENTS, 


^be  Gnudkn  Angtl . .  ••• 
The  IbnodBntwin  •  *••  •. 

TlMBoblfi.. 

TiMOnitkm », 

Gbild>  Moniiig  Hjnn. . . 
TlM  ForgetlU  lifetle  Girl. 
MbtiMr,  what  it  DMtht ., 
TIm  Bishop  and  his  Bircb. 

TlM,Foiir  SatMM 

•"SnflbrLUttoOhndTCiito 

TULortOhUa 

OdnMidAbal » 

VUtfainGod 

TIm  Stokn.Plato 

Hm  Stolea  Ftott  C^XmiMmmiO 

IlM]flB«rMi4Mi8oai 

Hm  Anfili  of  BilMahMii  ••• 


.«.« .^1 

..^ 12 

...« 40 

....17 

^» 

m 


J5 

so 

oooMiiiitoMe**.  SB 


tltfAii|lMfMogr 


•  •••••« 


*      XIX.      Tkm  CAmniiV  Oboki*  #•••  ..n* 


•••••k •< 


^      XXL  0Wimh1hmak((knHmmti) 

*  .    JCXQl   Th»  IWtMifl  ogitowtw 


«      XZIV.   TlMliif 


•  ^*»  p*tf  • ••• •*••< 


••■>••••  •  •  •  •  • 


t5 


41 


61 
08 
il5 

«7 
fiQ 

fa 

74 
76 


« 


XXVL 

uvn. 


11m  AsMteilMI  S% 

!R»iitll»lMiib. ..*... .»«> 

HUKtUt  Iiwril  (Owitfmni) , . ». 84 


1, 1  iiii 


•sw 


:SS3S 


liiw'i  I'll 


■"ifwrt 


...>..  ffl 

«B 

10 

•  •!>••• 

67 

&> 

>••••• 

U 

> •• • •• 

$0 

<^  •  ••» 

74 

79 

79 

m 

u 

tt 

M 
'tt 
M 
« 
tt 
U 
M 
tt 
M 
M 
M 
M 
tt 
4t 
tt 
M 
M 
tt 
« 
tt 
tt 
tt 
« 
M 
M 
M 

M 


XXXL 
XXXIL 

XXXTTL 

XXXIV. 

XXXV. 

XXXVL 

XXXVH. 

xxxvm. 

XXXIX. 
XL. 
XIX 
XUL 

xLin. 
xuv. 

XLV. 
XLVL 

xLva 
XLvm. 

•XLIX 

L. 

LL     •* 

m. 

TJTT. 

uv. 

LV. 
LVL 

Lvn. 


LVtEL       All  Bviniiiig  S|IMM . 


*     n 


m >_* 

X]r«ir€hnMlbrOUIdNB M 

Wnii«MidIikLittk8irtw 97 

little  XUen*!  May  Song 109 

The  Belf-WUled  Boy  ....*... IDS 

HeooniMtorwtwitiiiamyHiirt...  109 

TheBedbmtst 106 

Going  to  School Ill 

Abraluuit*t  SaorUloe... 114 

TlMOikw 117 

St  AngeU's  Vldon ^....  196 

The  Better  Lund 198 

The  Bird**  Nest ^ 190 

Prayer i....  199 

The  Fold  and  the  Shepherd 199 

TheOridMii*eBeeoUeotioaiof*llb^ir  199 

St  Franeb  de  Salee 197 

The  MeMenger  Aogil 140 

StVinoentdePanl.... 149 

The  Angels 149 

Joseph  and  his  Bretfaran 149 

The  Oro« and tiie Flower in 

StAloyrfqs.... 194 

AKl|hfcF«fi9«r. 190 

Thedraiit^thvWvj'^lde 191 

OMahtaittta*...... 199 

FhffipVDwOi..^ 199 

TbeBH^Baa.... ••••«.  199 

Letttr  «s  lira  Uttt  leMH.  ..s^^  .|««4 

to  tliifer  TeidMia 
bkbfliia]lieii«id^F)BOf.«UM  W% 


i 

! 


Th«  WMiplBg  Angtl 179 

BalBf « 181 

SebiMtatii  GouMi 184 

SebMtiMkQoiiMi  (^;nll&MM({).. 189 

GratitndetotlMSQpi^eiMBdQg 194 

The  Diiob«U«nt  Boy 196 

AeknowlMlgniMit  of  Dirine  F/kron 198 

The  YivtaowQiiMii.. ...*....« 900 

OrMlioiiaiidProTldMMfr;...*^ 902 

What  it  !•  to  have  a  Bad  OoDlefenM. ...  904 

TheFaUofthaLeaf.. 90T 

LitOaManle.. ..« 10^ 

Littia  Joseph........ 909 

ThfrBeiBdaer — 911 

ThaOonMaioii 918 

1telhitihlidBfl||v«  ••••••••••• 916 


10 


■MO] 

vLZ. 

u 

LXI. 

M 

UUL 

U 

Lzm. 

u* 

LXIV. 

M 

LXV. 

U 

LXVL 

U 

LXVIL 

M 

Lxvra. 

U     . 

LXIX. 

M 

LXX. 

U 

LXXL 

a 

T.TIPTT 

u 

Lxxm. 

'•4, 

LXXIV. 

-* 

LXXV. 

i^i^ 


•WMMMMIMiHM 


:.)»^ 


u 


SECOND  READER. 


i  111  I II 


9 

aii-gel 

k)y-ing 

mom-ing, 


lE&SON  I. 

leave         pnj*^ 
home,       hmn^-ble 


kbeel 
heart 
weak 


TRI   QJJJiRPlAM   AVeiL. 

L  TkEAB  en^fell  crNr  al  my  nde» 

^  H^w  hiiiig  mm  mm  H 

Td  kite  th/iMntie  jn  h^i^ 


gJi$^^" 


i!' 


12 


BBOOND    RBADBB. 


2.  And  when,  dear  Spirit!  I  kneel  down, 

Morning  and  night  to  prayeiv 

'  Something  there  is  within  my  heart 

Which  tells  me  thou  art  thnre. 

5.  Then  for  thy  sake,  dear  angel  I  now 

More  humble  will  I  be : 
But  I  am  weak,  and  when  I  &II, 

Oh,  weary  not  for  me. 
4  Oh,  weary  not,  but  love  me  still. 

For  Mary^s  sakfe,  thy  queen ; 
She  never  tired  of  me,  though  I 

Her  wc^  of  sons  have  been. 

6.  6l||;will  reward  thee  with  a  smile; 

^ou  knowest  what  'tis  worth!  ' 
For  Mar}^*s  smiles  each  day  convert 
i  *^^e  handest  hearts  on  earth. 
O.^lrhJ^n  lov^me,  love  me,  angel  dear! 
And  I  will  love  thee  miSte ; 
And  help  me  when  my  soul  is  cast 
Upon  the  '3temal  diore.  ' 


■^•» 


per-oeiv-ed 

oom-meno-ed 

fear-fiiMy 


lESSON  II. 

town  hol-low 
storm  ^uick-ly 
voice     light-ning 


de-voutly 

or-der-ed 

hap-pen-ed 


■^1^ 


.^' 


THB   THUMDBB8T0RM. 


13 


THB  .THUNDBBBTORK. 

FRANK,  a  little  boy  from  the  town,  had 
been  gathering  berries  in  a  wood.    As  he 
was  abont  to  retom  home  again,  a  storm  aroM; 


:3sss 


: 


I 


u 


BIO&HD  BSADBH. 


it  commenced  to  rain,  lightei^  and  thander. 
Frank  was  very  mnch  albdd,  mdL  crept  into  a  hol- 
low oak  near  the  road,  for  he  did  not  know  that 
high  trees  are  liable  to  be  rtmok  bj  lightning. 

2.  All  at  (moo,  he  heard  a  voice  callipg, 
^^  Frank  1  FirankI  come— -oh  I  ccime  ont  qnick- 
I7 ! "  Frank  crept  oat  from  the  hoEoir  tree,  and, 
almost  at  that  Teij  instant,  the  lightning  stnick 
the  tree,  and  the  thnnder  pealed  fearfolly.      ' 

8.  The  earth  tremlued  beneath  the  terrified 
boy,  and  it  semned  to  him  as  if  he  stood  in  the 
midst  of  fire*  No  i^nry,  howerer,  had  hap- 
pened to  hna ;  and  he  ezdaimed,  as  he  prayed 
with  nplifted  hands:  ^*The  roice  must  We 
come  from  hefiivML  It  is  Thou,  0  my  good 
God,  who  hasi  saved  me;  thsoiks  be  to  Thee  I'* 

4  But  the  voice  er^  out  once  more: — 
*'  Frank !  Frank  I  do  yon  ^t  hear  met*'  and  he 
now  perceived,  for  the  first  time^  that  it  was  a 
peasant  woman  who  Was  80.oaSing  oat 

5.  FralOc^J^SQll^idEII^^^^  ''Here  I 
am ;  what  do  yon  wtot  idfeme T  " Oh,"  re- 
plied the  Somali,  '*ii  ithm  npt^yoa  I  meant,  bat 
v^  oWtt  Mttb  F^k,  whd  has  been  irat^ni 
the  ge^  on  tiie  bank  of  thfl  brook  yoi^de^^ 
ai^  most  have  taMi  absker  from  ^  moam 


=SSSS33ir 


THB   tH0HDBR8TOBM. 


U 


somewhere  hereabonta     See,  here  he  comes  at 
.last,  out  of  the  boshes.** 

6.  Frank,  the  town  bo^  now  told  her  how 
he  had  taken  her  voice  forN^  voice  from  heaven^ 
The  womim  folded  her  hands  devontly,  and 
said:  *^0h,  mj  childf  you  8honI(ri3!e  lio  less 
thankM  for  Itiis. 

7.  *^  The  voice  caii^,  indeed,  from  the  mouth 
of  an  humble  peasant;  but  God  so  ordered  it, 
that  I  should  crjceut  aloud,  .and  should  call  jou 
b  j  nasne,  although  I  kneir  nothing  at  all  ibotit 
you.  It  id  He  who  has  re»$ued  j(m  fi^m  the 
gre|A  daager  to  iFhidijrou  hive  bee&expoaedl" 

a  '' Yei^  ye^I**  cded  Frank,  with  tears  in  his 
eyes;  ** €bd  haa  made  use  of  yowt  rcnck^  in 
order  to  save  me;  it  was^  indeed,  you  who 
called  ihe,  but,  nevertheless,  the  hdp  came 
frtonGodl", 

Ddem  it  not  ohttnce,  wbifteW  befidl-^ 
One  iiU-wiM  Hind  dispoMth  all. 


depth 
wduld 
onunbi'' 


IWi 


LESSON  III. 

peas-ant          oon-id4ng  man 

creature        e-pen-ed  gU^ 

wm-dow         oto-iib^  '    farvi 


111  nil   IlliWW      III 

|i||iHi)ii»      III     I    II 


mmi/"'- 


/ 


z':.-^ 


16 


8I0OMP   BIADBB. 


V 


TBI    BOBIN. 


\k  ^  ROBIN  came  in  the  depth  of  winter  to  the 
•^  window  of  a  pious  peaaant,  as  if  it  wonld 
like  to  come  in.  Then  ike  peasant  qpened  his 
window,  and  took  the  confiding  little  creature 
kindlj  into  his  house.  So  it  pi^ed  np  th$ 
crumbs  which  fell  from  his  table,  and  his  chil- 
dren loyed  and  cherished  the  little  bird. 

2.  But  when  the  spring  returned,  and  the 
bushes  and  trees  put  forth  leaves,  the  peasant 
opened  his  window ; — and  Uie  little  guest  flew 
into  the  wood  hard  by,  built  its  nest,  and  sang 
merrily. 

3.  And  behold,  at  the  return  of  winter,  the 
robin  oame  back  to  the  house  of  the  peasant, 
and  its  n^ate  came  with  it  The  man  and  his 
children  were  y^  glad  when  they  saw  the  two 


vmMmm^kmoM. 


17 


HtUe  hkdB,  which  looilcod  it  them  to  ooiifi#sgly 
wit}i  their  bright  ;€JM, 

4  And  the  tM^tm  wMh  *t  Th«  litOe  birds 
look  at  UB  as  if  th^  W9r6  gdoig  to  say  some- 
thing/' "^ 

5.  And  dy^  fiitto*  fniswcsed :  **  If  they  oonld 
speak,  thej  would  iMij:  Kindness  begets  kind- 
ness, and  lore  begets  loye." 


•»*^ 


ssrcred 

scrip-tores 

lir-ing 

crea-tnre 

dark-ness 


lESSOK  IV. 


sec-ond 


re-firesh-ed  fiU-ed 

be-gin-mng    do-min-ion  csM-ed 

fir-ma-ment    breath-ed  flow-ed 

throng-ed 


bean-ti-fhl 
0ep4k-rat-ed    wi^-ont 


THB  OBSltlOK — ADAM  AITD   9TB- 
OABDBll   OF   BDBB. 


ponr-ed 
sii-gle 

-TUB 


FROM  the  Sacred  Scriptures  we  learn  tibat 
God  cnreated  the  heavens  and  the  earth ; 
that  the  earth  in  the  begiiming  was  withont 
form,  and  that  no  living  creatures  were  upcm 
it;  and  that al wis ^kness.  Then  Ckxl  spoke 
and  sfedd:  «'Let  there  be  lig^t,**  ac^U|^ 
made,  and  spread  abroad  OVOT  ^e  eavtL 


NAm 


ii»M»«»i'lit 


t     1" 

Urn 


I 


18 


.MAA 


8M0f  D  UtAO^It. 


1 


*'■  I 


.2.  God  spdkd  it  fieooad  tiiiie  ttddsaid:  ^^Let 
there  be  the  firmament,"  ted  the  beaiitiM  bine, 
sky  oame  into  bei^g.  H<d  then  sep^ted  the 
TTat^B  from  the  Wid,  aftd  .ttionntiulis  and  hills 
rose  np,  with  the  vaUeys  between  them.  Fonn- 
tains,  btooks^  and  titrers  refreshed  the  dry  land 
and' ^nred  themselves  iiito  the  sea; 

3.  Then  the  eartd  at'  the  command  of  €k>d 
bronght  forth  trees  and  grass,  herbs  and  flow-' 
ers,  of  every  variety.  The  birds  of  the  air 
wtoe  created,  and  the  woodi  and  fields  were 
filled  with  ^tgfie  and  beasts  of  every  kind^  and 
the  waters  of  the  sea  and  of  thei  riveni  were 
thronged  with  fishesi 

4  The  ^arth  and  the  heavens  were  now 
made,  and  they  were  beantiM  to  look  upon; 
bnt  in  the  whole  earth  there  was  not  a  single 
human  being  to  enjoy  it,  and  to  praise  its  great 
and  bountiful  Creator.  Then  dod  said:  ^tLet 
us  make  man  to  our.  image,  and  likeness;  he 
diall  have  dominion  over  the  fishes  of  the  sea, 
the  birds  of  the  air,  Hie  bBSta  of  the  field,  and 
over  the  whole  earth." 

>5.  And,  Ho  made  man^ut  ofthe  day  of 'the 
earth,  breathed  into  him  the  breath  of  Hisj  and 
called  him  Adam,    Then  God  cadt  Adam  into 


■^.^ 


^l|  I  I      iljW.ll.liI  il 


2^.: 


v&s  iomMMtton. 


m 


■HkhMUaMliftktaHMIIMMl 


a  deep  sleep,  and  wlilb  he  was  asleep,  He  took 
from  the  side  of  Adam  a  rib,  and  from  it  He 
made  the  first  woman.  Whom  he  called  JEhe,  And 
when  Adam  awoke,  and  saw  for  ike  first  time 
his  beantifhl  companion,  he  was  filled  with  joy. 

6.  God  placed  Adam  and  Ere  in  a  beantifhl 
garden,  culled  Paradise,  or  Eden.  !this  delight- 
ful garden  was  filled  with  the  most  beantifnl 
trees,  which  bore  the  sweetest  blossoms  and 
fruit;  flowers  of  eveijr  kind  and  color  and^^<»r 
abounded  in  it ;  and  through  the  nudst  flowed 
a  sparkling  ^spring,  which,  di-vidhig  itself  into 
four  streams,  watered  the  whole  gwrden; 

7.  All  the  animals  were  mild  and  obedient  to 
Adam ;  even  the  lion  would  lie  at  his  feet  and 
would  not  hurt  him.  Birds  of  the  most  beauti- 
ful plumage  flew  firom  tree  to  tree^  and  ^ed 
the  groves  with  their  sweet  songs;  and  every 
thing  was  there  to  tender  Adam  and  Eve  ha.|»]^. 


/ 


mom-mg 
a-round 
ris-ing 
a-long 


LESSON  T. 


near-er 
k^p^er 


•-11? 


a*loiie 


MHtiMMMMiHNMlr^ 


with-in 
spir-it 
k^t 
slept 


harm 

hear 

brow 

keep 

Mb 

rdad 

pour 

iarm 

!■■        ■■■iflii     Hi 


nm-^mmmtmmdim 


20 


BBOOVD   BIADBE. 


CHILD  8  MORNDra  HTMH  TO  ITS  QOAXDIAX  ANQBL. 

L  p  UARDIAN  angel  I  thoa  hast  kept  ^ 
^  Watch  around  me  while!  slept: 
Free  from  hanii  and  perO,  now 
With  the  cross  I  sign  my  brow. 

X  Risen  with  the  rising  son, 
Forth  I  go,  bat  not  alone: 
For  mj  keeper  and  my  gnide, 
Thou  art  ever  by  my  side. 


3.  Pour  then  erer  in  my  ear 

Woitls  which  angels  joy  to  hear; 
Curb  my  tongne  and  thoughts  within, 
And  keep  my  wandering  eyo  from  sin : 


T8I  FOEOBV#VL   LITT&l   01 RL. 


31 


1 


And  lile  mj  step  ak»g  tibid  road 
WMriK  MngB  me  nealrer  to  mj  Ood. 

4        Gld^totlieVaili«rbe;'^    ; 
Gknjf/Jesas,  onto  th^. 
And  Holy  Ghost,  eternal  thiea   Amok 


m»^ 


lit-tle 

ten-dir 

tieart-ed 

shared 

per-feet 

les-Bon 


lESSOI  YI. 

tfon-ble 

▼er-y 

3iB-ter 

oer-tain 

mo-ment 

goM-en 


caU-ing 
al-wsys 
ly-ing 
k)ok-ing^ 


ef^rand 

langh-ed 

U^dy 

de-]nrive 

ahonl-der 

ex-penae 


TBS  rOBOBTFUL  LITTLB  OIBL. 

LITTLB  Hinnie  was  a  tender-hearted  girl, 
who  wilHngly  shared  aU  ahe  had  with  oth- 
ers, gave  dothea  to  {Kxir  diildren,  ^ke  aweetly 
to  every  one,  and  dwaya  went  to  daas  with 
perfect  lessona 

2.  Mhmie  had  one  great  ftlling,  however, 
and  it  bronght  her  into  trouble  r&j  often.  I 
wiU  ten  yon  something  that  she  did,  and  yon 
will  then  see  what  her  &nlt  was. 

3.  One  day  she  was  feeding  her  Ut#  im  a 


■Ma# 


22 


8B00VD 


low  table,  when  she  heard  her  sister  calling  her 
at  the  door.  She  ran  to  the  door,  certain  that 
she  would  be  back  in  a  moment 


4.  She  found  her  sister  Mary  there,  with  her 
apttm  full  of  pretty  pebblea  "  Come,  Minnie,*' 
said  she,  V  go  ^^  ni^  cu^cL  we  will  find  some 


more. 


\ 


*^  5.  M!nm#uihonght  no  mcure  of  the  bird,  bnt 


M> 


mmrmm^ 


■I  >  I  J—.  iiJimmmmmmim'imtimm 


mm 


^tm-m^ 


Jk 


followed  her  sister,  and  did  not  return  till  noon. 
"  I  won4^  ^loiy  1%  4»  ¥>  Ptill  ^Q-4ay,"  said  her 
mother;  -I  have  not  heard  him  sing  since 
morning." 

6.  Minnie  sprang  np,  with  a  beating  heart, 
and  mnning  to  the  cage,  found  poor  Lily  gone. 
The  cat  had  dragged  him  from  the  cage,  and 
his  little  golden  feathdrs  were  lying  all  about 
the  floor. 

7.  In  the  picture  you  see  little  Minnie,  yiew- 
ing  her  firosen  planls^  which  i^e  had  forgotten 
to  remofe  the  n^ht  before.  Her  roses,  her 
geraniums,  her  verbenas,  are  all  dead.  One 
little  fofgjdt-mc^notbolws  its  head  so'inoumfnlly 
that  she  almost  thiid^  it  s]^ea^s»  »nd  says,  ^*Foi^ 
get-me-notr  ,  ^  . 

8.  She  dreamed  that  nightof  her  powers  and 
her  bird,  and  ^ej  seemed  to  be  9bl£pg  plain- 
tively, **'Forget'me-nof^  Minnie,  forget-ioae-notl" 
This  cured  Minnie  of  her  bad  habit 


'^•^ 


lESSON  TIL 

ba-by         hush-ed      some-thing  re^nemrber 

can-not       a-gain        emp-ty  wiA*e^ed 

langh-ing   cas&rm^l  ploas-ant^ly  akoi^ty 


.  -■--,,  r,r^'#-^g 


Ws 


.!".  I.  .  ■i.-^WWH'i'l  >  ■  '"■•>  1 1 1 1  I  in  »       I    I    III 


!  • 


24 


BBOOVD  SaADlB. 


MOTHIB,  WHAV  IS  BIATSf 

L  If  OTHER,  how  Still  the  baby  Hegf 
^  I  cannot  hear  his  brMli; 
I  cannot  see  his  laughing  eyes— 
They  tell  me  this  is  death. 

2.  "Mj  little  work  I  thought  to  bring, 
And  sat  down  by  his  bed, 
And  pleasantly  I  tried  to  sii^; 
They  hushed  me — ^he  is  dead. 

8L  **  They  say  that  he  again  will  rise, 

More  beautiful  than  now ; 

That  God  wiU  bless  him  in  the 

0  mother,  tell  nie  how  r 

4  *^  Daughter,  do  you  remember,  dear, 
The  cold,  dark  thing  yoti  brought^ 
And  laid  upon  the  casement  here— 
A  withered  worm,  you  -thxn^yhif . 

6.  *^I  told  you  that  Almighty  power 
Could  break  that  withered  shell, 
And  i^ow  you,  in  a  future  hour, 
SofttJBthinf  would  please  youifdL 

%,  •*  IjOi>k  at  the'chrysifif^  mf  love— 
An  empty  dbteU  ii^ ;— 


\ 


\ 


TBI  BI8ROF  Al^  StS   ^IBD8. 


25 


Nofir  ndie  joor  wondermg  glaoM  iliorQ^ 
ToLwliflra  jon  iBBeel  iiest" 

T.  ••Ohye8,Buonm»riia«r'rKy  g»f 
Its  inngB  of  Btany  gold! 
And,  see!  it  Kghtlj  fBes  awaj; 
Beyond  my  gentle  hold. 

8.  **0  mother,  now  I  know  full  well^ 

If  Qod  that  worm  can  change^ 

And  draw  it  from  this  broken  oell^ 

On  golden  wings  to  range,-— > 

9.  «' How  beantiMwffl  brother  be» 

When  God  shall  giT«  Ami  winp^ 
Above  this  dying  world  to  flee, 
And  live  with  heaTenty  ihiagsl'^ 


m^^ 


lESSON  YIII. 

siz-ty  vil-kge  ask-ed  ber-ries 

fif-tf  him-self  mean-ing  car-ry 

wor-thy  wish-ed  sto-ry  o-pm 

bishn^  per-flon  late-ly  win-dow 

fan  BISHOP  AND  BIS  BIBD8. 

AW<mTHY  Inshop,  who  died  Uil%il%jEUi- 
iib«i|  kid  &r  his  anns  two  fieUflHresi  with 
the  motio— **  Are  ms$  two  spanoira  scM  for  a 


■Mw 


mtmmmmMtm 


26 


BBOOIID    BBADKB. 


t 

I 


I  ■ 
•  ■ 


I    I 


farthing?^*.  This  strange  coat-of-arms  had  often 
excited  attention,  and  many  persons  had  wished 
to  know  its  origin,  as  it  was  reported  that  the 
bishop  had  chosen  it  for  himself,  and  that  it 
tx>re  reference  to  some  event  in  his  early  life. 
One  day  an  intimate  friend  asked  him  its  mean- 
ing, and  the  bishop  replied  by  rebting  the  fol- 
lowing story:  \ 

2.  Fifty  or  sixty  years  ago,  a  little  boy  re- 
sided at  a  little  village  near  Dillengen,  on  the 
banks  of  the  Danube.  His  parents  were  very 
poor,  and,  almost  as  soon  as  the  boy  could  walk, 
he  was  sent  into  the  woods  to  pick  up  sticks 
for  fuel 

3.  When  he  grew  older,  his  father  taught  him 
to  pick  the  juniper-berries,  and  carry  them  to  a 
neighboring  distiller,  who  wanted  them  for  mak- 
ing hollands.  Day  by  day  the  poor  boy  went 
to  his  task,  and  on  his  road  he  passed  by  the 
open  windows  of  the  village  school,  where  he 
saw  the  schoolmaster  teaching  a  number  of  boys 
of  about  the  same  age  as  himself 

4.  He  looked  at  these  boys  with  feelings 
almost  of  envy,  so  earnestly  did  he  long  to  be 
among  -them.  He  knew  it  was  in  vain  to  ask 
his  father  to  send  him  to  school,  for  his  parents 


.ji^ 


XZJ 


f^ 


had  no  money  to  pay  the  Bchoolmaster;  and  he 
often  passed  the  whcde  day  thinking,  while  he 
was  gathering  his  joniper-bemea,  what  he  could 
possibly  do  to  please  the  schoolmaQter,  in  the 
hope  of  getting  some  lessons. 


6.  One  day,  when  he  was  walking  sadly  along, 
he  fiaw  two  of  the  boys  belonging  to  the  school 
trying  to  set  a  bird-trap,  and  he  asked  one  what 
it  was  for?  The  boy  told  him  that  the  school- 
master was  rery  fond  oi  field&ree,  and  that  they 
were  setting  the  trap  to  catch  some. 

6.  This  delighted  the  poor  boy,  for  he  reool- 
lected  that  he  had  often  seen  a  great  number 
of  these  birds  in  the  juniper  wood,  where  they 


r 


\\\\ 


28 


BBOOND   BBAI^Sm. 


came  to  eat  the  berriea,  and  be  had  bo  doubt 
bat  he  ooold  catch  some. 

^  7.  The  Heart  day  the  little  boj  boraowed  an 
old  baeket  of  his  mother,  and  when  he  went  to 
the  wood  he  had  the  good  fortone  to^catch  two 
field&resL  He  pat  them  in  the  basket,  and, 
tying  an  old  handkerchief  over  it,  he  took  them 
to  the  schoolmaster^s  hoose. 

8.  Jast  as  he  arrived  at  the  door,  he  saw  the 
two  little  boys  who  had  been  setting  the  trap, 
and  with  some  itom,  he  asked  them  if  i^ef  had 
canght  any  bkda  They  answered  ia^ie  nega- 
tive; and  the  boy,  Ms  heart  beatiii|f  with  joy, 
gained  admittance  into  the  schoolmaster's  pres- 
ence. In  a  few  words  he  tdid  how  he  had  seen 
the  boys  setting  ike  trap,  and  how  he  had 
canght  the  birds,  to  bring  them  as  a  present  to 
ihe  master. 

9.  ^^A  present,  my  good  boyl*'  died  the 
schoolmaster;  ^^you  do  not  look  as  if  yoa  coald 
afford  to  make  presents.  Tell  me  yoor  price, 
and  I  will  pay  it  to  you,  and  thank  you  besides.** 

**  I  would  rather  give  them  to  you,  air,  if  you 
please,*'  said  the  boy.    > 

10.  The  schoolmaster  looked  at  the  boy  as  her 
stood  before  him,  with  bare  head  and  feet,  and 


THE   BISHOP   AND   HIS   BIRDS. 


29 


ragged  trowsen  that  reached  only  half-way 
down  his  naked  legs. 

11.  **  Ton  are  a  very  singular  boj  I"  said  he ; 
"•  but  if  yon  will  not  take  money,  yon  mnst  tell 
me  what  1  can  do  for  yon ;  as  I  cannot  accept 
yonr  present  without  doing  something  for  it  in 
return.     Is  there  any  thing  I  can  do  for  yon?^* 

12.  "  Oh,  yesT  said  the  boy,  trembling  with 
delight ;  **  yon  can  do  for  me  what  I  should  like 
better  than  any  thing  else." 

"  What  is  that  ?"  asked  the  schoolmaster,  with 
a  smile. 

13.  **  Teach  me  to  read,"  cried  the  boy,  fall- 
ing on  his  knees ;  *^  oh,  dear,  kind  sir,  teach  me 
to  read." 

The  schoolmaster  complied  The  boy  came 
to  him  at  his  leisure  hours,  and  learnt  ao  rapidly, 
that  the  schoolmaster  recommended  ^U  to  a 
nobleman  who  resided  in  the  neighborhood. 
This  gentleman,  who  was  as  noble  in  his  mind 
as  in  Mb  birth,  patronized  the  poor  boy  and 
sent  him  to  school  at  Ratisbon. 

14  The  boy  profited  by  his  opportimities, 
and  when  he  rose,  as  he  soon  did,  to  wealth 
and  honors,  he  adopted  two  field&res  as  his 
arms. 


*^m0    ' 


1. 


\ 


}> 


1  i 


ao 


SECOND    BBADSB. 


^^Wliat  do  jon  meanf*  cried  .the<  bishop^s 
friend. 

**I  mean,"  returned  the  bishop,  with  a  smile, 
^*  that  the  poor  boy  was  myself." 


<»■»» 


sea-sons 
win-ter 
passred 
sum-mer 


lESSON  IX. 

flow-ers  cov-er-ed 

re-tnm-ed  hy-a-cintli 

de-sir-ed  play-mates 

dis*ap-pear  pas-tore 


sport-ing 
hap-py 
clns-ter 
cher-ries 


THE   FOUR   SEASONS. 

"  T  WISH  it  were  always  wint^pP^«dd  Ernest, 
A-  who  had  return^  from' a  sleigh-ride,  and 
was  making  a  man  ont  of  snow.  His  iither  de- 
sired him  to  write  down  this  wish  in  his  note- 
book; and  ^e.  did^to.  ' 

2.  The  winter  passed  away,  and  the  spring 
cam&  Ernest  stood  with  his  father  by  the  side 
of  a  bed  of  flowers,  and  gazed  wim  delight- 
upon^he  hyacinthi^  the  violets,  and  the  lilies  of 
the  valley.  "These  are  the  gifts  of  spring," 
said  his  fiither;  "but  lliey  will  soon  hde  and 
disappear,"  "Ah I"  said  Ernest,  "I  wish  it 
were  always  spring ! "  "  Write  that  down  in  Wf ' 
book,"  said  his  father ;  and  Ernest  did  sa 


THB  F0irit   B9A80KS. 


U 


3.  Tbe  ^ring  passed  sw«^y  and  nuBinef  came. 
Ernest  went  with  his  parents,  and  some  of  his 
plajmatesy  into  the  oonntiy,  and  spent  the  day 
th^ra  Everywhere  the  meadows  were  green 
and  decked  with  flow^s,  and  in  the  pastures 
the  yonng  lambs  were  spcxrting  around  their 
mothers. 

4.  They  had  berries  to  eat,  and  passed  a  very 
happy  day.  As  they  were  going  home,  the 
father  said,  **  Has  not  the  summer  its  pleasures 
too,  my  son?"  ''^h,  yes,"  said  Ernest;  i*I 
wish  it  were  always  summer !"  And  this  wish 
Ihnest  wrote  down  in  his  father^s  book. 

5.  At  last  asttumn  cama  Ernest  i^aiu  went 
witii  his  parents  into  the  e«^Bti^«  It  was  not 
so  warm  as  in  &e  summer,  but  the  air  was  mild 
and^  the  heavens  were  dear.  The  grape-vines 
were  heavy  wiHi  purple  dusters;  melons  )ay 
upon  the  ground  in  the  gardeiis ;  ai^  in  the 
orchards  the  boughs  -were  loaded  with  jipe 
fruit  • 

6.  *^This  fine  season  will  soon  be  over,**  said 
the  &ther,  5*  and  winter  will  be  upon  u&" 
''  Ah  I"  taid  Ernest,  ''  I  wish  it  would  stay,  and 
alwi^  be  autumn  r 

7*  ^*Do  you  reaQy  wish  so?**  said  his  father. 


mfmmmfm 
II  <iniimiiii 


1 


u  ■  ■ 


\\ 


:    . 


32 


SBOOHD   BIADER. 


"  I  do,  indeed,'*  replied  Ernest  **  But,"  con- 
tinued his  father,  tddng  at  the  same  time  his 
note-book  out  of  his  pocket,  ^*  see  what  is  writ- 
ten here." 

8.  Ernest  looked  and  saw  it  written  down, 
"  I  wish  it  were  always  winter.*'  "  Now  turn 
over  another  lea^**  said  his  &ther^  "  and  w)uit 
do  you  find  written  there?"    ^I  wish  it  were 

,  always  spring."     ^*And  &rther  on,  what  is 
written  ?"     "  I  wish  it  were  always  summ^." 

9.  ^^And  in  whose  handwriting  are  these 
words?"  *^They  are  in  mine,"  said  Ernest 
"And  what  is  now  your  wish?"  "That  it 
should  always  be  autumn."  "  That  is  strange," 
said  his  father.  "In  winter,  you  wished  it 
might  always  be  winter;  in  spring,  you  wished 
it  might  always  be  spring ;  and  so  of  summer 
and  of  autumn.  Now,  what  do  you  think  of 
all  this?" 

10.  Ernest,  after  thinking  a  moment,  replied, 
"  I  suppose  that  all  seasons  are  good."  "  That 
is  true,  my  son :  they  are  all  rich  in  blessings, 
and  God,  who  sends  lliem  to  us ,  knows  fat  better 
than  we  what  is  good  for  us.  Had  the  wish  you 
expressed  last  winter  been  granted,  we  should 
have  had  no  spring,  no  summer,  no  autumn. 


8UFFBB   LlVtLK  OHILDBEN. 


33 


IL  **  Toa  would  have  had  the  earth  always 
fcoyeied  with  snow,  so  that  70a  might  have  had 
sleigh-rides  and  made  snow-men.  How  ma^ 
ipleasores  would  yon  have  lost  in  that  event! 
tit  k  well  for  ns  thast  we  cannot  hav^e  all  things 
[as  we  wish,  but  diat  God  sends  ns  what  seems 
rood  t6  him." 


f 


Isuf-fer 

lit-tle 

|$hil-dren 

l-ed 


WESSON  X. 

fobt-stool        heav-en 


pte^jpare 
#adi-6d 
Idnf'dicna 


wor-fihip 
ho-ly 
al-tar 
siifrple 


lon-ger 

a-bove 

be-low 

gath-er 

de-ceive 


»» 


''SUFFER  umm  cBsmm  to  ooxb  uvto 
fl.  T  THD^  wheaa,  I  read  than  sweet  story  of 


I 


<dd. 


When  Jesns  WIS  here  among  men ; 
How  he  called  HttlB  children  like  lambs  to 
his  fold, 
I  should  like  to  have  been  with  him  then. 

2.  How  I  wish  that  his  hands  had  been  laid  on 
my  head, 
And  my  arms  had  been  thrown  round  his 
knee, 


^mfif 


-mi»^ 


iii- 


i 


ll 


i 


i 


34 


SBOOND   BIADBB. 


And  that  I  might  have  seen  hk  kind  looks 
when  lie  said : 
*  Let  the  litde  ones  come  unto  me.*^ 

3.  Yet  still  to  his  footstool  in  prayer  I  may  go, 
And  ask  for  a  l&are  of  his  love ; 
And  if  I  thus  earnestly  seek  Urn  bebv, 
I  shall  see  him  and  hear  mm  abova 


4  In  that  beantiftil  place  he  has  gone  to  prepare 
For  all  who  are  washe4a&d  forgiven ; 
For  many  dear  children  ax^  gathering  therOi 
And,  "  of  such  are  the  kingdom  of  heaven." 


.««#.< 


THB   LOST   CHILD 


35 


6.  Tet  why  should  I  diink  he^s  no  longer  on 
earth, 
When  he  sajs:  **  I  un  all  days  with  yon  ;*' 
For  snre,  if  he  loves  little  children  like  me, 
Then  his  words  must  be  simple  and  tme. 

6.  No:  he  cannot  dedive. — ^Hift  dear  mother 

And  strdght  to  his  altar  repair; 
For  he  say^  he  still  dweUs  in  that  sweet,  holy* 
place,  *^ 

And  a.  child  may  worship  Mm  there. 


■t^tM. 


niche 
course 
wall 
none     those 
heart     wonld 


arms 

grasp 

mde 


lESSON  II. 

hoar        arsleep  fig-nres 

flood       .  fi-nest  re-quir-ed 

earHi-ly  ^4e-came  im-age 

be-neath  fre-^itent  re-presd 

etat-ne      pros-trate  de-grees 


THB  LOST   OHIia>. 

'pOOB  little  Genoveffal  she 'was  an  orphan, 
-■-  and  had  strayed  away  ^somr^ii§L  honse  of 
her  kind  old  nurse  MimL  She  jHRered  for 
hours  and  hours  through  the  darkl||mt  streets, 
when  all  at  once  she  caught  sight  of  a  fiunt, 


•^mim 


i 

I  i 


(»■• 


I'  1 

I 


4 

I   lit 


n 


iU 


;i  i 


m 


V       ! 


36 


SBOOKD   BIAI^BB. 


glimmering  fight  verf  fiur  awaj.    After  a  great 
deal  of  trouble,  she  made  her  way  ^  to  it,  and 


fitocd  gaajng  np  with  eyes  of  terror,  trying  to 
find  out  where  the  light  was  placed. 


J 


THE   LOST   O0II.D. 


37 


■ 


2.  Iq  the  course  of  this  scrutiiij,  she  per- 
ceived that  the  deceitful  lamp  was  boraing  be- 
fore an  inuige  placed  in  a  niche  in  the  wall; 
her  extreo^e  diaappointment  h^  prevented  her 
making  'this  discovery  at  first,  and  something 
very  like  jojr  was  flattering  at  her  heart  as  she 
drew  near  and^onnd  herself  standing  before  an 
image  of  "  the  Virgin  Mother  and  the  Child,**  to 
which  some  pious  person  had  endeavored  to  do 
honor  by  the  Totive  oiBferingpf  a  lamp. 

3.  The  figures  indeed  were  rude,  and  had 
none  of  the  beauty  of  those  they  represented ; 
but,  such  as  they  were,  they  told  the  lost  Geno- 
veffa  that  ^e  had  a  mother  iq  hepfvea  who 
watched  over  her  rand  prayed  fofc  her  still,  a 
divine  Jesus  who  had  died  for  her,  and  a  heav* 
enly  father  who  would  never  forsake  her.  The 
finest  Statue  could  have  done  no  more;  and, 
with  a  recovered  sense-of  safety,  she  twined  her 
arms  around  it  and  wept  at  its  feet,  as  she  had 
done  many  an  hour  of  late  before  the  loved 
Madonna  of  her  vanished  home. 

4.  She  was  now  completely  exhausted,  and, 
by  degrees,  her  sobs  became  less  frequent,  her 
arms  relaxed  their  tight  grasp  of  the  statue,  she 
sank  lower  and  lower  until  she  lay  prostrate  on 


I 

'     I 


i 


■n 


38 


SECOND   BBADBB. 


the  payement,  and,  five  minBtes  afterwarda,  she 
was  fiist  asleep — oncared  for  indeed  b j  men, 
but  well  guarded  by  the  Holj  Ones  in  heaven, 
beneath  whose  earthlj  images  she  had  sought 
protection. 


•^•^ 


driv-en 
sec-ond 
gen-tle 
work-ing 


LESSON  XII. 

par-a-diae  ^ac-ri-fice 

vi-o-lent  •  ao-cept-ed 

em-ploy-ed  pnn-ish-ed 

in-struct-ed  de-part-ed 


dwelt 
heart 
threw 
shown 


''i'^-' 


^      •OAIB   AND  jABBl^.  £- •:  ^   ^,^ 
%i^*  .^fSc.^**'    ^*^^^»,     H-^i^L^^"^  h"^ 

/xLisim,  and  JSi^b  irece  iiiifen  out  of 

^e  second  Abel  ( 
and  gentk 


and  rough,  and  cmiployed  himselfJn  worldng 
intneBmd*.    Brafig^iMf^f/MflKetea  in  tbe.dii- 

(^k.^m'i^m'i^^^  .^^^^  ^™  ^ 

t«#ilraMSPthe  e^it^^be^  ttp  best  and 

fattest  sheep  of  his  flock.  "O   j'        * 

2.  God  accepted  the  sacrifice  of  Abel,  because 

it  waB^tnade  wit£  plotis  tod"  hcty^^positiGns; 


bnt  he  rejected  the  offering  of  Gain,  becanse  his 
heart  was  not  pnre.  This  stnng  Cain  to  the 
quick ;  his  countenance  changed,  and  his  heart 
was  filled  with  jealousy.  The  piety  of  Abel 
gave  him  nneaedness;  and  a  brother^s  good 


qnalities,  which  he  himself  had  not,  stirred  np 
his  enyy  into  a  most  violent  hatred.  One  day 
he  asked  his  brother  to  walk  witK  Mm  into  the 
field,  and  when  they  were  alone,  he  rushed  on 
Abel  with  a  club  and  killed  him  This  was  the 
first  murder  that  defiled  the  earth. 


40 


BBCOKO   KSAnSIi. 


S.'^The  Lord  cfilled  Cain  and  said  to  him; 
"Where  ia  thy  brother  Abel?"  Cain  replied 
with  inaolenipe:  "I  know  not;  am  I  the  keeper 
of  my  broUier?"  God  then  aaid  to  him ;  "  Wbat 
haat  thoii  done?  The  voipe  of  thy  brother^s 
blood  criea  unto  me  from  the  earth  against  thee. 
Cursed  shalt  thou  be  upon  the  earth,  which  thy 
band  has  stained  wi^  thy  brother's  blood. 
When  thou  shall  tiB  Iti  tt  shall  not  yield  thee 
its  fruits;  a  flig^tifiB  apt  a  Tagabond  thou  shalt 
b^  upon  the  eardt'*  <^ 

4.  Cam  waa  fefdfied  i^  theae  words,  and 
exclaimaiS:      '  j 

"  My  inkiallpli  Ipo'  great  to  be  pardoned  I 
behold  tiioil  4teli  wl^iBsa  out  Hijn  day  from  the 
face  of  ik»  m^l  i^  hidia  iQ^lf  from  thy 
face,  I  i^aU  be  a  fttgili^e  ngi  a  wanderer  on 
the  earth,  and  whoever  ahaU  vu^  m»  wiU  kill 


me. 


i» 


5.  But  €k>d,  who  never  wishes  a  sinner  to  fall 
into  despair,  immediately  replied :  "  No,  it  shall 
not  be  so;  but  who  shall  kill  Cain^  ahaU  be 
punished  sevenfold."  C^ 

6.  And  God  set  a  mark  upon  Cain,  that  he 
might  be  known,  and  he*  departed  from  l|i« 
native  place  and  dwelt  alterwards  in  the  kuid 


CAtir   ARD   ABEL. 


41 


of  Nod,  as  it  is  called  in  the  Scriptares,  east  of 
Eden. 

7.  We  maj  well  imagiiie  what  grief  nemd 
anguish  this  crime  g«ve  to  the  ak^eacfy  sorrow- 
stricken  parmits  oi  Cain  and  AbeL  How  Eve, 
on  receiving  inteUigenoe  of  the  mtfrder,  flew  to 
the  spot,  and  with  a  heart  bleeding  with  sorrow, 
threw  herself  upon  the  lifeleas  boc^  of  her  son, 
as  is  shown  in  ^e  picture  at  the  beginnii^  of 
the  lesson. 

8.  Let  our  young  readers  ever  banish  from 
their  hearts  every  ib%ig  of  jedloisiy ;  and  in- 
stead of  being  pained  at  the  piety  and  virtue  of 
their  brothenSfSiifters,  and  companions^  let  them 
be  rejoiced  thei'eai  Jealousy  is  ttnworthy  of  a 
noble  and  genopoua  aoul  It  wm  tile  vice  c^ 
Cain ;  and  will  lead  to  tiie  crime  of  ©ain. 


I  rri  I.I      ilttW 


wait-ed 

search-ed 

paus-ed 

shil-ling 

wid-m 

chil-dren 


lESSOK  XIII. 

mod-est         la-bor 


eheer-leas 

pierc-ing 

fleet-ing 

qtdck-ly 

M-ing 


no-ble 

dai-ly 

pray-er 

cbr-ner 

eldest 


an-swer-ed 

lis-ten-ing 

tast-ed 

toil-ed 

wretch-ed 

be-cause 


'■•*r 


42 


SBOOVD    RSADIE. 


FAITH   IN    GOD. 


1. 


T  KNEW  a  mdow,  j^rf  poor,        ) 


Who  fom  ma^  dmiim:^ 
The  eldest  was  but  six  yeurs  old, 
A  gentle,  modest  lad. 

2.  And  veiT  hard  this  widow  toiled 
^"^Tl^Wiii  her  children  fonr; 

A  noMe  heart  the  mothw  had, 
.    '     Though  she  was  rery  poor. 

3.  To  labor,  she  would  leave  her  home, 

For  children  must  be  fed; 
And  glad  was  she  when  she  could  buy 
A  shilling's  worth  of  bread. 

4.  And  this  was  all  the  diMdreii  had 

Chi  anj  day  to  ail: 
They  drank  their  watw,  ate  their  bread, 
But  never  tasted  meat  ' 

5.  One  day,  when  snow  was  falling  fast, 

And  piercing  was  the  air, 
I  thought  that  I  would  go  and  see      "^ 
How  these  poor  children  were. 

6.  Ere  long  I  reached  their  Ae^less  home; 

'Twas  searched  by  every  Infeeie ; 


U 


lAITH   IV    GOD. 


43 


When,  going  in,  the  elde8t>  child 
I  saw  upon  his  kneea. 

7.  I  paused  to  he^m  to  the  bojr : 

He  neret  raised  his  head, 
But  still  irenl  (mei,  and  said,  *^  Gi^e  Us. 
This  daj  onr  di%  bread." 

8.  I  waited  titt  the  child  was  dc»iei 

Still  listening  as  he  prajed ; 
And  when  he  t&mt  I  asked  ham  wh  j 
That  prayer  he  them  had  saidir 

9    "  Why,  sir,"  said  he,  **  this  morning,  when 
My  mothei*  went  away. 
She  w^t|  because  she  said  she  had  ^ 

No  bread  Ibr  us  to-day. 

10.  ^'  She  said  we  children  new  must  stanre^ 

Our  &ther  being  itoad; 
And  tbi»llald her ii€»l  to diry, 
For  I  oonld  get  some  hlfead. 

11.  ^^  *  Our  Fathe^,^  sir,  the  prayer  begins, 

Which  made  me  think  that  he, 
As  we  have  no  kind  &thw  herf, 
Would  our  kind  Father  be. 

12.  **  And  the»  you  know,  nr,  that  the  p^yer 

Ada  God  for  bread  each  cby ; 

■t '    '  ' 

i^Pi^if— — —  I  I mil    iimi    m Ill     !■ ■      I  I    m»«— — I    I        i      I       i 


II 

44                          8B0OND    BEADBR, 

^^^H 

So  in  the  comer,  sir^  1  went ; 

is 

And  that^s  whlit  made  me  pray.** 

■ 

fr] 

13.  I  quickly  left  that  wretched  room, 

I 

se 

l 

And  went  with  fleeting  feet, 

^^H^B 

w 

li 

And  very  soon  was  back  again 

H 

1  ' 

With  food  enough  to  6at 

I 

II 

14  "  I  thought  Ooji  heard  me,''  ftaic*  *he  boy. 

B 

9 

I  answered  with  a  tubd. ; 

\  HI 

1 

1  codd  not  speak,  but  mtich  I  thought 

^I^CI 

1 

^  Of  that  boy's  Mtii  in  God 

1 

LESSON  XIV* 

1 

tanking            Want-ed            l^hiiid 

1 

dis-graoe         seem-ed           <ihe&p-eti 

H 

tri-fle               lb.4ure              e3D-e-ca*tioa 

H 

%  \ 

your-self          Wretdh^        ma^'^oiis 

H 

m  ' 

run-ning       ,  Hlted*cie4          dis^fl^-point^ment 

H 

'i 

drown-ed       J  between          oon^KHla-tion 

H 

ii 

pa-pa               oon-trives         nDrre-al-i>ty 

H 

!| 

sil-ly                tempt-er           un-prof-it-»^ble 

■ 

m 

tHi  «1N)LBN   ttxtn. 

■ 

.A   i 

"  TTAS  your  mind  been  mnning  on  that  fool- 
-U.  ish  {dale  ever  einoe  Satordiiy  night  f' 

I ' 

■|Pt' 

I ' 

ti 

||| 

cried  my  molberi     *^  Well,  if  this  is  the  way  it 

1 

i 

1 

* 

1 

THE    BTOLBir    PLATK. 


45 


is  to  be,  I  shall  stop  your  taking  tea  with  your 
friends.  You  can't  haire  every  thing  that  you 
see  other  girls  have,  Kate,  and  you  might  as 
well  make  up  your  mind  to  it  first  as  last" 


2.  At  tkit  tettmi  I  bttfist  into  tf&tan,  but  my 
**Saoh  a  great  gfa!  «i  yo%  I  Urn.  fiurprited 


p  p 


you  should  cry  about  such  a  trifle ;  jou  ought 
to  be  ashamed  of  yourself" 

3.  "  Jane  Howard  and  Julia  Yandamm  will 
laugh  at  me  when  they  come  here  to  tea  if  I 
don^t  have  it,'*  said  I,  drowned  in  tears ;  "  for  I 
told  them  I  was  sure  |iapa  would  buy  me  one.*' 

"Very  well,"  answered  my  mother;  **then 
you  ne^  not  inidte  Aem — #At'8  aH." 

4.  We  got  no  othar  cousolation  fitom  my  dear 
mother,  for  isiie  wauled  to  ^ake  mef  fii|i  how 
silly  I*waa»  and  Annie  and  t  irent  to  sdiool  in 
wretc^dly  loir  spixiti.  Notiiing  seciised  before 
us  in  the  future  but  flat  diaappointoient  and 
disgrace.  We  biA  Iboaalei)  i^  mim  boasts 
would  soon  be  pr0f«^  Tain  md  m|^  words. 
We  kad  fed  oiur  faai^i&u^tkiiii  ou  4tt  idea  of 
posseaong  Ite^^leiMlfti  pliiii  ifll  iii^^^^b^^ 
had  hm^  §mmati  ''a     #       # 

5.^  €M«3e  Ib^  1^  jnoi^^ 
tim^-lilie  Smvt^'kqpk^,'^  «%  irith  a 
scornful  and  malkiio^  jhi^  |^  imagined, 
whether  mf  ftlher  hid  ye^boijllt  ^  pretty 
plates.  Annie  and  I  said  nothing  to  each 
other  on  oar^wsy  home  that  day,  until  we 
stopped  by  mutual,  birt  tacit  (that  ia,  aibn^) 
consent  at  the  old  woman'a. 


Mipi 


mmmNf 


THK  STOI>£jr    PLATE. 


47 


6.  As  the  tempts  would  have  it — ^thftt  is, 
the  wicked  (qnrit  who  pats  bad  tk>iight8  into 
our  heads  and  contriyes  opportunities  for  ns  to 
put  them  in  ei;eciKtion— ahe  was  in  the  shop, 
and  behind  her  oonnter,  engaged  with  a  cus- 
tomer.   Then  said  I  to  Annie — 

"  Won't  you  tett  if  I  take  it  ?•* 

7.  And  Annie  pfY^aise^  thai  tke  wouldn't 
Somehow  we  got  huddled  togeth^  between 
the  ''.oc^  and  the  siifla^  The  old  woman  went 
on  holding  out  her  prk»  against  ^er  customer, 
who  was  ^atyioQ  to  cheapen  her  sewing-silk  a 
penny  a  skeiu, 

8.  ''Do  yott^hiiik  die  can  see  us?'*  asked  I, 
in  a  whisper. 

''Mo/' whisp^edi^me*  j 

9.  'Tis  a  WGoider  we  Bevei^rai^^  that  God 
saw  u^;  but  it  nay  be  thi^  we  efHMdm!ed  if 
He  did,  Be  woiM  o^  teS  imt  moAflf  of  us. 

"  Is  n't  aaybo^y  0(ml$^i,  Annie  f '  tiid  L 

"No,"  said  she,  "nobody." 

IG.  i  hxSmi  botiLiiiayi  to  see  if  the  street 
was  clear,  and  iry  heart  beat  terribly.  The 
old  momtafm  \mik  waa  lunMddr  the  other  way, 
and  I  lifted  the  plale  mS  the  pBe  and  sltf^ied  i% 
into  my  school-bag,  w^di  iniiie  h^  open. 


mat 


SI 


■  t    .'I 


I: 


i;'< 


\m 


while 
were 
1  walk 
sure 
true' 
guilt 


Then  we  got  awa j  as  iisl  idwd  tould.     ^nd 

80   MT  SISTER  AkNIB  AKD  I   STOLi   THB   PRETTt 


PLATE. 


^•^ 


rath-er 

ri)Be-tree 

leel-ing 

a-gi«ed 

bur-ied 

loat-ter 


lESSOR  XT, 

^d-isg 
ex-pose 


da-senre 
in-deed 
jaev-er 
cor-ry 


.co-co»tnat 

per>mis-sion 

re*tiir&-ing 

fi-nal-ty 

ooa->«oience 

^ead-ful-ly 


THY  STOLIBll   FI*ATI.        If 

OOHTUIUBD. 

''  AH,  Katj!"  6aid  Annie  to  me  at  last,  While 
^  we  wer^  wkM&g  om'  fmee  bdfo^e  dinner ; 
''I  hxv^  no  peM^  at  431  for  thii^king  ot  that  lit- 
tle pktis  in  dlie  garden*  06  M  tn^  t^  mother 
to  let  tn  take  %  wa&  ifter  dinaef,  tM.  ditij  it 
back." 

%  '' (^  no,  Asidie!*'  saM  t ;  ''I  ^mt  iik6  to 
do  that*' 

^^ft  wffl  ntvet  do  to  leiBiv^  it  wh«r«  it  Is, 
Katjl"  reii^ed  Annie,  irh^  wad  nlwtrfi  mdri^ 
thoughtfbl,  fo^oseeiug,  iHid  appr^ettsiTethan  I. 


'*  It  will^>e  sore  to  come  to  ligki  one  of  these 


3.  Ooa6i<l6iriiiglliefewMod[3ratiinoli<»two 
of  gaid«»  modd  fyinf  abo^  i%  Itm  iras  obvi- 
oiuij  too  Inie  I  «ad  uDdtoed  ocur  ampiioitj  » 
hiding  it  in  such  a  spdi  was  as  ]»l«ia  urn  onr  bad 


■r?e?^ 


Igg 


■  ■■:  S 


50 


BBOOND    BBADEB. 


conscience:  but  that  is  always  the  case,  as  I 
have  since  observed,  and  you  may  all  read  in 
stories  about  wicked  people,  that  in  their  very 
attemplpi  to  hide  their  guilt,  they  generally 
contrive  to  exj^oee.  themselves  idreadfully  to 
detection. 

':  4  Well,  it  does  not  matter  to  tell  what  we 
both  said  for  aad  alpAlntt  this  new  proposition 
of  my  sister  AnHie Vriour  fear  of  being  seen  iu 
doing  it,  or  ev^  in  Iddng  it  out  of  the  ground 
where,  we  had  bin?i#d  it,  juiiil  the  feeling  of 
humiliation  I.  hii  to  thaik  o^retuming  it,  after 
all  it  hadooBt  fib  , 

5.  fvsaS^,^^ 
us  permisslj^^  talpi:  a  #a&E;  I^ent  out  into 
the  gfrd^  jiiil  l>c^ 
tree,  ik^  up  till  |Hr^%  piMte  luMMorved,  and 

it  biJoiiEi  and  jxuSk^sut$n.  excuse 
t*s  worth  pf  ciMKMirnut  meat, 
while  Annie  paid  the  old  woman^  I  watdied  my 
opportunity  and  put  the  plate  back  just  where 
it  was  when  I  took  it  And  so  we  wen^  and 
walked  round  the  Battery,  and  ate  our  cocoa- 
nut  rather  silently,  and  returned  home  with 
such  a  load  off  our  hearts! 


hid  it  ftii^ 

6.  Wa 

of  bu;^g  a^ 


"^ 


THE    MILLER   AVD    HIS    BON. 


51 


once 
drove 
town 
gone 


LESSON  XVI. 

mar-ket  dis-tance  ^ 

horse-back  wag-on 

langh-ing  peas-ant 

i-dle  shep-herd 


shont-ed 
bas-ket 
dou-bks 
car-ry 


THE   JliLLBil   AND   HIS  SON. 

MUAiBR  and  his  son  once  drove  an  ass  to 
the  town  to  sell  him  in  the  market 


52 


BBOOND   RBADIB. 


2.  A  man  on  horseback  met  them.  **OhI** 
said  he,  laughing,  *^whafc  doll  fbllows  70a  are 
to  let  the  tis  go  ioQe,  instead  of  one  of  70a 
mounting  him  !*' 

3.  The  &ther  immediateljr  called  to  his  son 
to  mount.  ' 

After  a  while  a  wagon  met  them. 

The  wagoner  cafied  out  to  the  son:  **Are 
you  not  ashamet^  jc^u  yoi^  fellow,  to  ride, 
while  yoitf  old  #m#^lM8  t%|f^  ak»g  by  your 
side  on  foot?" 

4.  As  womw^.m^m^l^'^ra^  ^^ 

immediatdif  J<Mi|flt'  W  #|  11%  «ti€ J^st  his 
father  get  ttpt  ,      v*** 

After  d^flNi^ 
along  a «aiid|^ wm4i ^Vm^  ifiJitoiM^Aem, 
carrying  a  baApl  fi2l  ^ili^ 

"  to  Bii^  J  'mtii^tomml^fm  ass, 

and  4»  M  fiil  foor  Ml  $Ac^  l&}ti^iifti  4eep 
sand.'*    '  ^'^^f-r--.^.  ■^%- 

The  £i&es,  4lier6fo¥l^,  tod1^d«|kOtt  iiao  1^  on 
the  flis.  ^ 

6.  But  K^n  a  iShef^herd,  w)rb  w&i  tmMig 
ikmep  on  tibe  )?oi4iiMe,  |aw  Ama.  h^  Mt0 
tH^  on  the  ass,  he  A^ted  otot:  *'JM  pli 


■  ijg,.'  ■ 


pocnr  beaBtf  h^  wffl  tnrely  M  to  the  groimd 
nnder  aach  a  double  loecL  Ton  ere  torturing 
the  poor  beestmitaereif^P'        0- 

7.  They  then  both  got  down,  and  the  son 
said  to  his  ftHhert  *' What  fihall  we  now  do  with 
the  ass,  in  order  to  satisfy  the  people?  We 
mnst  at  kst  tie  hit  feet  together,  aiVd  cirtjr  him 
on  a  pole  on  onr  shoidden  to  market** 

8.  Bift  his  Mher  Udd :  **^1?i>tt  observe  now, 
my  son,  tliaft  It  li  knposiiMe  to  please  erery- 
body ;  and  that  there  is  wisdom  in  the  advice : 

«*  «T1i»  tivklM^i^uMi,  nam. 


t* 


wstAi^ 
ti-diiigs 

UD-tO 

c»t-y 

swad-dling 

man-ger 


lESSW 

Won-ders 
logli-est 


o-v#r 


sp^-dea-ly 

ajhpeer-ed 

Ba^-onr 

heav-en-ly 

re-gard-ing 

hap-pen-ed 


might 

born 

stmck 

laid 

great 

kne'tvn 


TfiB   iltl0Xfeia  OF 

i  BOOT   twelS^  sKepl 
A  thfeirelieeply  night, 

of  Bethlehem,  where,  you 


BBTHLXHKS. 

W^  #at6hiWg 
nM  §est  from  lihe  city 
know,  Christ  the  Lord 


was  bom.  Suddenly  the  Angel  of  the  Lord 
appeared  before  them,  a  great  Hght  shone  all 
around,  tu^  the  shepherds  were  struck  with 
fear* 

2.  But  the  Angel  said:  **Be  not  afraid;  I 
bring  you  tidings  of  great  joy  for  all  the  people. 
.This  night  a  SaTiour  is  bom  unto  you  in  the 
city  of  Dayid.  He  is  Christ  the  Lord,  and  by 
this  sign  you  shall  know  him :  You  will  find  an 
in&nt  wrapped  in  swaddling-doUiea  and  laid  in 
a  manger." 

3.  Then  there  appeared  a  great  number  of 
the  heavenly  i^irits,  and  th^  sii^  the  praises 
of  God,  saying :  *^  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest, 
and  on  earth  peace  to  men  jofg^io^- will"  Whea 
the  angels  were  gone,  the  diepherds  said  to 
each  other:  **Let  us  go  over  to  Bethlehem, 
and  see  what  has  happened,  that  the  Lord  has 
made  such  things  known  to  us.** 

4  They  went  in  haste,  and  they  found  Mary 
and  Joseph  with  the  child  laid  in  the  nuinger. 
And  they  saw  that  all  they  had  heard  was  tme 
regarding  that  divine  Infant  And  then  they 
told  the  wonders  Hiey  had  seen.  Aad  Jfoy 
the  mother  of  Jmn  kept  these  things  ^  bur 
heart 


THB  SH3BPBBBl>-BOT. 


5ft 


LESSON    XVIII. 

.mor-iy  main-taia    ^fe-omre 

rich-er  cheer-M       beK^use 

kii^-ed       tpir-it^  bloom-ing 


tend'ing 

valley 

call-ed 


THB   BHBPHSRD-BOY. 

ALIGHT-HEARTED  ihepherd-boy  was  tend- 
ing sheep,  one  bright  spring  morning,  in  a 
flowery  valley,  between  wooded  hills^  and  sing- 
ing and  skipping  about  for  very  joy.  The 
prince  of  the  t«arritory,  who  happened  to  be 
hunting  in  the  dittrict,  saw  him,  called  him  to 
him,  and  said:  ^Why  are  you  so  merry,  ray 
dearUtUeli^wr 


•OTur*** 


M 


Mlro^^  ^diiMi. 


2.  The  boy  did  iiQtkm>]ir  thejpfince,  and  re- 
ified: ''WhyikbM  Twiiyinerry?  Our 
moil  piwiijln  miam  Mmself  ia  not  liclfiir  than 

^£BdMdr'8aidl;k«,{»riiioli;  ^^l^me  hcMoraQ 
that  jou  hfrel"  ^v-^^^ 

bri^  bhui  -^ii^jhf^  pleasafttij  ixr  me  as 
for  &6  prince,  «|||^Pp|il  t«^  i^re  as  green 
and  b^eang  te  slill^  t^B^  /  I  ir<Mdd  not 
give  s^  haadt  ^«^^ed  t|Mwd  eiowns, 
and  I  li)i^d  noimAmf  ef^1^:0  tfce  jewels 
in  the  pkc^  lri|ilu?»^^Hig||f' 

requkts.    lealliqf^MeyeiT^^^iifrll^^ 
sufficient  to  dresd  neatly ;  and  evdry  year  I  re- 
ceive as  much  inoney  for  nr^  lalor  as  supplies 
all  my  i^3CeM(fM«6.    li^iidil^iBinyousay  th4 
the  prince  has  more  f* 

6.  th^  good  prhice  laughed,  miaSb  himself 
known  to  the  tad,  «yi  siid: 

"  Ybu  art  qttil^  rigM,  mf  g6od  bey ;  Mid  you 
can  now  twy  thai  ^e  prin^  Uinsitf  |>^eody 
agrees  wfth  you.*  OtAf  eotttkue  Id  miilntain 
I  the  same  cheerful  spirit,  and  yoit  1^  d6  VcB.** 

2^_  I   1 1    III   II  I I  '  i    I  jii.  .11!  ij  ii   inriiiiiiii I 


w 


^Ih 

THB   q^^ppUH'ft   0«OI0B.              fi^T 

andre- 

.    » 

?    Our 

^lEssoH  xa- 

Mrtlifi& 

8ol-dier             T^mmthmt         ^^tun 
u-ni-foim           #i-0oii4fliit           can-Hon 

lewTftQ 

pres-i-den^         bmtid-ffirQrd         owto-fort 

.in  the 

THX  lfmMJ,9M^Wl'9^  <MM»X0«. 

me  as 

mm. 

green 

1    ^^^^H: 

1.  TMEANtobeaioldieB^ 

lid  not 

■   i        1  With  uniform  quite  new;                         || 

iiDwns, 

I  wish  they'd  let  me  have  a  dmnv 

jewels 

And  b<9  a  captiip  too : 
I  would  go  i|mid  iAie  battle 

le&e; 

With  my  broad-fword  in  py  hai^ 

Ami 

And  hear  the  dinnpn  rat^ 

tMkes 

And  the  music  til  so  grands 

\T  1  re- 

ipplies 

IHlTBpa. 

2.  My  son!  my  son!  i^ial  if  that  sword 
Should  strike  n  noUe  heart, 

lifuself 

^^^B 

And  bid  some  loYing  fiither 

From  his  little  opes  df|»artil 

Eld  yon 
neotiy 
lintain 

W  bftt  comfort  WQU^d  your  wmmf  plumes 

And  brilliant  dreas  bestow. 

When  ypu  tlpigbit  uppu  the  widpw's  tears 

And  her  or]^btti*8  cry  of  woe? 

58 


^meoitw  kuA'bM, 


WXtUAlL 


i  - 


3.  I  mean  to  be  a  pifesidect, 

AiA  rule  eadi  tkiiig  state, 
And  hold  mj  hireea  ottce  a  weilt 

For  all  the  gi^  and  great: 
m  be  a  king,  except  a  crown, 

For  that  tiiej  ikm'i  aBow, 
And  1^11  find  oat  what  the  tariff  is, 

That  pozzies  me  so  now. 


XOTHXB. 


4  My  son !  my  son !  the  cares  of  state 

Are  thorns  upon  the  breast. 
That  ever  pierce  the  good  man^s  heart, 

And  rob  him  of  his  rest 
The  great  and  gay  to  him  appear 

As  trifling  as  the  dnst. 
For  he  knows  how  little  they  are  worth — 

How  fiuthless  is  their  tmet 

LOUISA. 

5.  I  mean  to  be  a  cottage  girl, 

And  sit  beside  a  rill,  ^ 

And  mom  and  eve  tbj  pitcher,  there. 

With  purest  wat6r  fill ; 
And  ril  train  a  \&t^  woodbine 

Around  my  cottage  d«or, 


And  wdoome  ta  mj  wmter  be«rth 
The  wwdtovtefVeid  lli»  poor. 

Honmu 
6.  Lomsa,  dear,  an  humble  mind 
TisbeaaldMto^iM, 
And  you  shall  ne? er  hear  a  word 
To  check  thai  mind  from  me ; 
But  ah !  rem«ttber,  pride  may  dwell 

Beneath  the  woodbine  shade; 
And  discontent,  a  sullen  guest, 
The  cottage  hearth  invade. 

G^Boura. 
T.  I  will  be  gay  and  coiartly, 
And  dance  away  the  hours ; 
Music,  and  sport,  and  joy  shall  dwell 

Beneath  my  fairy  bowers; 
No  heart  shad  ache  with  sadness 

Within  my  laughing  hall, 
B«t  the  note  of  joy  and  gladness 
Ee-eoho  to  my  call 


8.  Oduldr^!  aad  it  makes  my  aonl 
To  hear  yoir  pkyM  i^idn  ;~ 
I  canndbcar  to  <M1  your  heatt 
With  images  of  pain : 


09 


S»OOjr»  BSAMSa 


— t 


!«*■ 


wtrnmlfi^i^ 


Yet  hvmUj  tak«  whtt  G«i 
iH      And  like  hia  ofm  ftii 

Look  up  in  sunshine  with  a  mme^ 
And  gentlj  bend  in  ehow^ia 


lEssoir  XX. 

work-ed        al-most  in^Un^^d    washing 

assist  con-feas^    pov^er-tf    fin^ish 

some-times    na-mer-oi|s    gromrble    Thnra-day 

xllek's  dbeam. 

ELLEN  was  a  good  girl,  and  worked  hard  to 
assist  her  mother  in  the  support  of  a  young 
and  numerous  fiunilj.  It  must  be  confessed, 
however,  that  she  was  sometimes  inclined  to 
grumble  at  the  extreme  povertj  in  which  they 
lived,  and  she  often  used  to  think  it  very  hard 
tliat,  as  the  eldest  of  the  children,  almost  the 
whole  labor  of  the  house  fell  to  her  share. 

2.  One  day  her  mother  said  to  her,  *^  Ellen, 
my  child,  you  must  be  up  before  light  to-mor- 
row morning,  £9r  I  have  an  bbubiibI  (luantity  of 
washing  this  week>  and  I  shall  not  be  able  t6 
finish  it  in  time  without  your  aisistaDce." 

3.  ''  But  this  is  only  Hiuraday,  mother,''  aa- 


"*^  ■ 


I 


swered  EUm.    "  Yon  nerer  want  jour  waahing 
finished  before  Sa4i2sib7." 

4  *^The  fiunilj  wbose  waahing  I  want  to  fin- 
ish are  going  into  the  ct  ontij  on  Friday.  I 
mnst  have  ^eir  things  home  upon  Thursday 
evening.  That  is  the  reason  I  want  your 
assistance;  for  they  are  good  customers,  and 
I  cannot  afford  to  lose  them,  which  I  should 
certainly  deserve  to  do  if  I  neglected  their 
orders." 

5.  Ellen  sai^  no  more,  but  she  thought  to 
herself  **  The  children  in  that  family  are  rich, 
and  happy,  and  comfortable;  they  have  servants 
to  attend  them,  and  every  thing  on  earth  they 
can  wish  for;  while  I  am  obliged  to  toil  hard 
for  a  morsdi  of  bread 

6.  *^  Even  my  little  brothers  and  sisters  are 
better  off  liian  I  aiJi,  for  they  can  sleep  as  long 
as  they  like;  while  I  am  forced  to  get  up  in  the 
cold  and  dark,  long  before  I  have  slept  off  the 
weariness  of  a  hard  day's  work." 

7.  Ellen's  mother  saw  tibat  her  daughter  was 
vexed,  but  she  took  no  notice  of  it^  ai  she  was 
sore  she  would  soon  be  sorry  for  her  peevish 
feelings.  And  she  was  quite  right  in  this ;  for, 
after  saying  her  prayers  as  well  as  ^e  could. 


ta** 


62 


8BOONO   BXADBB. 


EHen  crept  ta  her  poor  be4i  ^>^^  trying  hard  to 
repress  her  fit  of  ill-humor,  soon  fell  fast  asleep. 

8.  Generally  Ellen  slept  so  sonndly  that  she 
never  was  disturbed  by  a  passing  thought:  but 
it  was  quite  otherwise  on  this  particular  night ; 
for  no  sooner  was  her  head  upon  the  pillow, 
than  she  dreamed  she  saw  a  beautiful  angel 
standing  close  beside  it 

9.  His  robes  were  of  dazzling  whiteness,  his 
long  "hair  fell  down  to  his  waist,  and  his  wings 
were  so  bright  that  they  filled  the  whole  cot- 
tage with  light,  and  even  the  miserable  table 
and  chairs  of  the  little  chamber  seemed  to  drop 
down  diamonds  like  summer  dew. 

10.  While  Ellen  giized  updn  him  with  wonder 
and  delight,  be  said,  in  a  voice  of  hea4renly 
sweetness,  *^  Ellen,  you  have  be^  grumbling 
this  night  at  your  poverty,  and  envying  those 
who  are  ridier  than  yourself 

11.  "  1  am  your  guardian  angel ;  and  because 
you  are  genei^Uy  %^^tiM  daughter,  and  try  to 
conquer  yduf  inclinli^on  to  discontent,  it  \  has 
been  pertailtted  ttieto  show  you  the  advantages 
of  the  state  which  you  find  it  so  difficult  to  en- 
dure.    Get  up  and  follow  me." 

12.  Ellen  thought  she  rosd  Imd  Mowed  hte 


\ 


L, 


BLLKN  8   DBXAM. 


63 


until  they  were  both  standing  in  the  opeu  £Oiin- 
try,  before  an  altar  dedicated  to  our  Blessed 
Lady.  A  crown  of  thorns  and  a  crown  of  roses 
were  laid  upon  the  altar,  and  upon  the  steps 
stood  a  lady  of  surpassing  beauty,  whom  she 
instantly  knew  to  be  the  Mother  of  God. 


13.  The  angel  now  pointed  towards  the  open 
country;  and  Mowing  with  her  eyes  tfie  direc- 


64 


8BOOHO   BIADBB. 


taoo  ^  hk  finger,  Ellen  bkw  another  angel  ad- 
vancing towards  the  altar,  and  leading  by  the 
hand  a  yety  joong  child,  whose  garments  were 
even  poorer  than  her  own,  but  whose  &ce  was 
fall  of  content  and  joy ;  she  knelt  down  upon 
the  lowest  step  of  the  altar,  and  the  lady  hd- 
yanced  to?^ards  her,  holding  .the  two  crowns  in 
her  hand. 

14  Ellen  felt  quite  sore  she  was  going  to 
give  4he  roses  to  the  happy  child;  but  hw 
angelic  guide  whispered  soMy^Jprot  yet;'*  and 
turning  again,  she  saw  that  lifary  had  already 
placed  the  wreath  of  thorns  aiaong  the  little 
creature's  curia 


lESSON  XXI. 

af-fec-tion-ate     as-ton-ish-ment     cm-d-fi-ed 
mo-meb-ta^fy      in-dig-na-tion       in-ter-ces^on 
ev-i-dent-ly         6b-scu-ri-ty  at-teja4ive-ly 

bllxf's  dbbax* 

THEN  the  lady  disappeared,  and  the  mxgfA 
drew  a  little  aside  and  folded  his  wings  o^ 
his  face  as  if  in  prayer;  but  still  WmkJ^  ' 


^jr 


I 


ihoogh  she  did  not  see  it,  thftt  he  continaed  to 
watch  over  the  child,  who  appeared  to  be  un-" 
der  hiis  care,  and  who  remained  sitting  alone  on 
the  step  of  ike  altar.  Bat  it  was  no  longer  the 
happy  child  it  had  appeared  before. 

2.  A  dark  shadow  seemed  to  hove  &llen 
upon  it ;  its  garments  were  changed  into  rags, 
which  were  quite  nnable  to  preserve  it  from 
the  cold ;  tears  streamed  from  its  eyes,  and  its 
round  merry  face  had  become  pale,  and  sad, 
and  pinched  b^  hun^r. 

3.  Still  Ellen  saw  that  the  little  hands  were 
clasped  in  prayer,  and  that  the  eyes  were  often 
raised  towards  heaven,  and  at  such  times  a  look 
of  afifectionate  devotion  gave  momentary  beauty 
to  the  wasted  countenance;  her  angel  also  would 
frequently  draw  closer  to  her,  and  his  presence 
evidently  gave  her  ineffable  delight 

4.  Many  people  now  appeared  to  pass  before 
the  altar:  most  of  them  took  no  notice  of  her; 
but  one  or  two,  with  a  kind  of  contemptuous 
good-nature,  threw  her  a  crust  of  bread,  which 
she  always  took  with  expressions  of  gratitude. 
Others,  however,  were  very  unkind,  speaking 
harshly  to  her,  and  even  striking  her  on  the 
&oe;  but  all  their  ill-treatment  she  received 


frXOOND   BSADSB. 


with  meekness,  and  only  (najed  more  earnestly 
for  her  cruel  torment(»& 

5.  ^en  was  about  to  express  her  indignation 
at  their  cruelty,  but  the  angel  placed  his  hand 
upon  her  mouth,  and  bade  her  look  once  more, 
and  tell  him  what  she  saw.  But  she  could 
scarcely  answer  him,  her  astonishment  was  so 
unbounded. 

6.  *^Her  angel  is  dose  beside  her,  and  Maiy 
is  standing  before  her,  and  her  rags  are  all  gone, 
and  she  wears  a  robe  covered  |rith  diamonds, 
and  as  dazzling  as  your  own,**  she  said  at  last 

"  The  poverty  of  this  world  is  the  wealth  of 
eternity,**  said  the  angel     **  Look  once  more.** 

7.  "  Mary  has  wiped  away  her  tears,  and  her 
&ce  is  more  happy  and  smiling  than  ever.** 

**  Happy  are  they  who  sow  in  tears,  for  they 
shall  reap  them  in  joy  and  gladness,**  returned 
her  guardian ;  "  now  look  again.** 

8.  ^*  Mary  has  placed  her  hands  on  the  crown 
of  thorns,  and  they  have  budded  out  into  beau- 
tiful roses.** 

*^  Even  so,**  said  the  angel ;  "  the  thorns  of 
this  earth  are  the  roses  c^  Paradise.  Now,  6xt 
the  last  time, — ^look.** 

9.  ^^Crowdsof  angels  are  around  her;  Mify 


«M 


BXiLBV'8   BlISAM. 


V 


takes  her  in  her  anna;  Mid  Oiii  is  ooming  nofw 
•^I  may  not  1(X^  upon  Hnt,"  aaid  EUeii,  smkiiig 
on  her  knees  and  coyering  her  &ce  with  her 

hands. 

10.  "You  are  right,"  answfted  the  angel; 
"mortal  eyes  may  not  look  upon  His  beauty! 
Tet,  like  tiiie  child  whom  Mary  ey^  nox^'  places 
on  His  breast,  He  was  bom  to  poverty  <aid  rata. 
He  walked  through  ihe  world  in  obscurity  ^ud 
want,  Ad  died  a  m&n  of  sorrows  on  i  ?!uuneM 
cross. 

11.  "  Had  there  been  a  shorter  road  to  heav- 
en, think  you  not  He  wpuld  have  chosen  it? 
and  deem  you  not  He  must  love  tho;^  who  are 
poor  in  spirit  and  in  very  deed,  since  He  him- 
self first  drank  of  the  chalice  that  He  now  holds 
to  their  lips?  Ellen,  as  He  once  said  to  His 
followers,  so  do  I  now  say  vzU)  you,  'Blessed 
are  they  that  mourn,  for  they  shaU  be  coorftert- 
ed.'  Yea,  even  on  the  bosom  of  their  Cruciied 
Saviour." 

.  12.  There  was  an  awful  pause,  during  which 
the  songs  of  the  ang^c  choirs  seemed  ree^ilng 
in  the  distance;  tl^n  Men,  who  had  not  ven- 
tured to  look  up  again,  felt  the  angel  toodih^ 
hand,  imd  htmd.  h^nelf  once  more  in  her  ttlde 


i''i>iii'iiiii. 


68 


SSOOND   RBA0BB. 


b^  while  lie  was  standing  still  close  beside  her 
pillow,  and  his  voice  sounded  more  sweet  and 
seraphic  than  ever  in  her^ars,  as  he  thus  ad- 
dressed her : 

13.  "The  child  whom  you  have  seen  this 
night  was  once  a  little  beggar-girl,  and  an  or- 
phan from  her  tenderest  years ;  but  by  her  fer- 
vent prayers  she  obtained  a  mother  in  the  Queen 
of  Heaven,  more  watchful  and  tender  than  mor- 
tal parent  could  have  ever  been.  •  ♦ 

U.  "through  Mary^s  all-powerful  interces- 
sion,  she  obtained  the  grace  to  receive  poverty 
with  patience,  and  contempt  with  joy ;  L  thh 
very  night  she  has  revived  her  rewd;  for 
her  good  heavenly  mother  with  crowds  of  angels 
attended  her  bed  of  deaths  and  bore  her  hi^py 
soul  to  the  bosom  of  her  God,  where  her  tears 
have  been  wiped  away,  and  her  sorrow  has  been 
changed  into  joy. 

16.  "My  daughter,  now  you  know  the  use 
of  sorrow  and  of  tears.  Pray  to  Mary  that  you 
also  may  have  patience  amid  suffering,  and  that 
your  death  may  be  like  that  of  the  beggar^shild 
who  went  to  heaven  this  night" 

16.  The  angel  ceased  to  speak,  and  the  light 
seemed  to  fade  from  his  wings  until  Ellen  waa 


BLLSH'S   DBBAM. 


69 


left  in  total  dftrkness.  Just  then  her  mother^s 
voice  roused  her  from,  her  slumbers,  and  Ellen 
sprang  from  her  bed,  a  wiser  girl  than  she  had 
ever  been  before. 

17.  "Why,  Ellen,"  said  her  mother  the  next 
evening,  in  great  astonishment,  "  jou  have  done 
more  work  to-daj  than  you  ever  did  in  your 
life  before ;  and  you  seem  so  happy  that  I 
should  not  know  you  for  the  same  girl  you 
were  yester^liiy." 

18.  "I  am  not  the  same  girl,  mother,"  said 
Ellen,  gravely. 

"Why,   what  has   changed  you  so  much, 

Ellen?" 

"  It  was  a  dream  I  had  last  night,  mother." 
"  Dreams  are  foolish  things,  Ellen,  generally 

speaking." 

19.  "But  mine  was  not  a  foolish  dream, 
mother."  And  Ellen  then  told  her  dream,  to 
which  her  mother  listened  very  attentively. 
And  when  she  had  finished  her  account,  her 
mother  said : 

20.  "Well,  Ellen,  I  cannot  say  your  dream 
is  foolish,  after  all  And  I  hope  you  will  think 
of  it  whenever  you  are  inclined  to  grumble  at 
other  people  being  tidier  than  yourself" 


/ 


21.  And  Ellen  did  think  of  it  very  often. 
She  became  the  comfort  and  support  of  her 
mother,  and  though  she  never  was  richer,  she 
always  continued  cheerful  and  contented ;  and 
whenever  she  heard  any  one  speaking  impa 
tiently  of  their  poverty  or  suffering,  she  used 
to  call  to  mind  the  visit  of  her  angel,  and  to 
whisper  softly  to  herself,  *^  Blessed  are  they  that 
mourn,  for  they  shall  be  comforted." 


^■»  ~ 


ban-ish-ed 
wick-ed-ness 
of-fer-ed 
un-wor-thy 


LESSON  XXII. 

in-creas-ed 
ex-am-ple 
un-hftp-py 
wick-ed-ness 


re-main-ed 
pu-ri-ty 
re-solv-ed 
com-mand-ed 


THE    ARK    AND    THE    DELUGE. 

CAIN  being  banished  on  account  of  his  wick- 
edn  38,  and  separated  from  the  rest  of 
Adam's  family,  went  to  live  in  a  country  to  the 
east  of  the  Garden  of  Eden.  He  was  now  an 
impenitent  sinner,  and  was  unworthy  to  be 
present  where  the  sacrifices  were  to  be  .offered 
to  Almighty  God. 

2.  He  became  the  father  of  a  numerooa  fiu&f 


^ 


'# 


THE    ABK   AND   THB    DELUGE. 


II 


ily,  and  brought  up  his  children  without  the 
fear  or  knowledge  of  God,  and  consequently 
they  became  a  very  wicked  race  of  men.  The 
sins. of  ^he  earth  increased  in  proportion  to  the 
number  of  its  inhabitants. 


3.  Adam  had  another  son,  called  Seth,  bom 
after  the  death  of  Abel.  The  descendants  of 
Seth  were  pious  and  distinguished  for  their  vir- 
tues, until  falling  in  with  the  race  of  Cain,  they 
lost  their  virtue  and  became  corrupt  and  wicked 
like  the  rest, — a  fearful  example  of  the  unhappy 
effects  of  bad  company. 

4.  In  the  coui^se  of  time,  their  wickedness 


/ 


72 


BBOOVD   BBADBB. 


became  so  ^eat  and  so  uniyersal,  that  scarcely 
any  virtue  r«»  mainecl  on  earth.  Man  had  so  far 
faUen  from  his  original  state  of  purity  and  inno- 
cence,  that  he  seemed  a  disgra(;e  even  to  the 
creatures  that  had  been  made  for  his  use. 

5.  The  Lord,  as  the  Scripture  expresses  it, 
repented  that  he  had  create.'l  inan ;  and  resolved 
to  sweep  him  oflF  from  the  facfe  of  the  earth,  and 
with  him  all  living  creatures  made  for  his  service. 

6.  No^  alone  was  a  just  man,  who,  with  his 
three  sons  Sem,  Cham,  and  Japhet,  found  favor 
before  God.  To  Noah,  therefore,  Gtx}  made 
known  the  awfbl  resolution  he  had  taken  of 
destroying  the  world  by  an  universal  deluge, 
and  as  he  intended  to  show  mercy  to  him  and 
his  family,  he  commanded  liim  to  build  a  large 
vessel,  called  the  Ark,  according  to  dimensions 
he  then  gave  him. 

7.  Noah  set  to  work  at  once  to  build  the  Ark, 
and  weis  two  hundred  years  in  completing  it. 
During  this  time  men  saw  the  preparations  he 
was  making;,  and  though  they  were  not  ignorant 
of  the  divine  threat  to  destroy  the  world,  still 
they  did  not  regard  it,  or  considered  it  fiir  distant 

8.  As  soon  as  the  Ark  was  finished,  Noah,  as 
he  had  been  directed  by  Almighty  €k>d,  took 

tf  ■        '  '  .  '  "    "       " 


0VO 


THI   ARK   AXD   THl   DSLCJGB. 


73 


into  it  a  certain  number  of  every  kind  of  birds 
and  beasts;  and,  lumng  ezeented  this  order, 
he  himself^  ifi'di  his  wife,  his  three  soni  attd 
their  wives,  also  entered  the  Ark.  <  /- 


'« * 


•  i 


N^ 


!*.? 


-'•* 


•v.      ■■.I,,..- 


9.  Immediately  after  this,  the  heav^pii. 
overcBAt,  and  the  rain  fell  in  torrents  dnring  the 
space  of  forty  days  and  forty  nights.  The  wa- 
ters began  to  rise  by  degrees,  and  soon  covered 
the  tallest  trees  and  highest  monntaina  Then 
those  wicked  n^n  who  had  derided  Noah  while 
he  was  boilding  the  Ark,  were  filled  with  terror 
and  alarm. 


« 


» 


74 


aHOOXD  K94D1B 


"I?" 


,10.  ThajTm  from  one  place  f4  imot^ec  in 
ewbr  to  save  theDoaefves  fixipL  ^proftcbi^ig 
doi^tk  They  asc<^iide4  lofty  t^ees  lo^d  high 
rocka;  but  ell  iuYaia:  the  rising  wftters  soon 
o^iertook  them,  and  bnried  them  in  its  raging 
iood.  All  were  deitroyed  'except  Noah  and 
his  family  in  the  Alk,  ;whicli  i?ose  \nth  the  rising 
wat.  i's,  md  floated  in  triiioiph  on  the  surface. 

11,  Thus  did  AWflity  <3k>d  dwteoy  the 
whqle^hitfflMn  I3ic5e,  eiE^ept  th©  eight  pevsons  in 
the  Aric,  on  aaooi^  of  thiD  widc^ess  which 
prevailed  «inx»ig  mm.  IM  cWWbrwi  learn  from 
this  how  grievous  is  tin  In  iim  sight  oi  heaven ; 
and  learn  to  avoid  it,  if  they  would  avoid  the 
punishment  t^!^?eo& 


LESSON  XXIH.      . 

be-came  com-mu-nion 

kneel-ing  a>part-ment 

caus-ed  ten-der-neas 

par-don  beftit*ti'>M 

TH9   GARLAND    OF   FLpWIBB. 

EMMA  waa  a  flighty  and  iq^rtive  cUld;  *nt 
when  1^  attained  her  twelfth  year,  a|  she 
was  preparing  to  make  her  first  commnnion,  sl^ 


flight-y 
sport-ive 
hap-py 
im-plore 


became  grave  and  reoollected.  When  iiam  hap- 
py daj  arriTedft  vbo  totffed^her  nother's  apart- 
ment very  early,  and  kneeling  before  k^,  s^: 
''My  dearest  moth/^,  pardon,  I  implore  yoV 
the  pangs  my  &nlt8  have  cansedjoa,  in  order 
that  I  may  receive  my  Qod  with  holy  hope  and 
a  pore  conscience.'' 

2.  The'  mother  clasped  Emma  to  her  bosom, 
shed  tears  of  . tenderness  overher^a^.  placing 
her  right  hand  on  her  daughter's  head,  gave 
her  her  benediction.  She  then  placed  on  her 
brow  a  mn^  veil  and  a  garland  of  white  iow- 
ers,  sajring:  "May  these  beantifal  flowers  be 
the  emblem  of  the  parity  of  yonr  sonl!"      * 

3.  When'  Emma  returned  from  ehnrch,  she 
said  to  her  mother,  with  a  heart  foil  of  h<^y 
joy:  ''  I  w^  preserve  this  garland  all  the  days 
of  my  Me,  as  a  memento  of  my  happiness;  but 
as  those  flowefs,  if  exposed,  might  lose  aome* 
what  of  their  beanl^ful  whiteness,  wiU  yon  kei» 
me  have  them  encased  in  a  glass  frame  ?" 

4.  ''With  pleasure,"  replied  the  mother; 
"but  on  condition  tintt  eadi  time  jo^  look  <hi 
your  garkod,  you  will  reec^ect  that  innocence, 
like  it,  is  a  delicate  ^wer  whidi  the  Itist 
breaHi  may  sully." 


i 


1  . 


J 


i 


il- 


76 


810O1ID   BBA0SB. 


LESSON  XXIY. 

at-tain-^  en-gsg-ed  pre-tend-ing 

pos-sess-ed  ba-fii^nesB  pro>noaiu>ed 

oon-templri-ble  or-der-ed  de-ceiV-ed 

pnn-ish-ed  dis-taste-M  pernniad-iBg 

THI   LIAB. 

ALPHC^SUS  had  netaclj  attiuned  hk  tenth 
year  before  he  conld  read,  but  had  he  pos- 
sessed the  knowledge  of  a  Newton  or  a  Cuvier, 
he  would  still  be  vile  and  contemj^ble,  for  he 
was  stained  with  the  most  odious  crime  that 
can  degrade  man :  he  was  a  liar. 

2.  Did  he  filch  fruit  or  any  othv^r  delicacy, 
he  would  persuade  the  world  c^  the  contrary, 
and  that  it  must  be  &e  cat  or  the  dog  that 
made  away  with  the  dainty.  Did  he  brea^  a 
glass  or  an  article  of  that  nature,  he  would  suf- 
fer all  the  servants  to  be  punished  sooner  tha^ 
acknowledge  himself  guilty. 

3.  Aiphonsus,  however,  had  neither  father 
nor  moth^,  and  his  guardian  was  too  much 
engaged  in  business  to  think  of  his  education. 
At  length,  hon^ver,  he  blushed  »t  the  ignorance 
of  Aiphonsus,  and  ordered  his  housekee'^r,  ua- 

-----  — - — ~ — - — ______^_____.^___ —  — ______-_ji 


TB»  LIAR. 


n 


der  pexudtj  of  being  discharged,  lo  oondiiol  him 
daily  to  sehooL  • 

4.  The  discipline  of  the  eehool  was  Tery  dia- 
tasteM  to  the  boy,  and  he  taxed  his  ingenuity 
for  pretexts  to  exense  his  abeenoe;  but  the 
housekeeper  was  ineicorabie.  Once,  however, 
Alphonsus  triumphed  over  her  stenmess,  by 
pretending  sicfaiefls. 

5.  This  stratagem  did  not  prove  of  long  suo- 
cess;  for  the  physician  was  caBed  in  and  pro- 
nounced him  well:  so  he  was  obliged  on  the 
morrow  to  resume  his  paper  and  books.  The 
following  Monday,  Alphonsns  agam  deceived 
the  vigilance  of  the  housekeeper,  pereutyding 
her  that  it  being  the  anniversazy  of  the  teach- 
er^s  birth-day,  all  the  scholars  got  a  holiday.  . 

6.  But  the  latter  sent  to  demand  the  reason 
of  Alphonsns'  absence,  and  the  housekeeper,  in 
a  passion,  declared  that  she  should  be  no  k^^ 
the  young  knave's  dupe.  The  nex^  day  she 
entered  Alphonsns'  room  at  the  usual  hour. 

7.  The  latter  complained  of  pain  through  his 
body  and  a  violent  headache.  The  hooiekeep- 
er,  persuaded  that  ha  was  lying  as  usual,  piulled 
hktt  out  (ji  bed,  dl!Cised  him  hastily,  andleid  hin 
off  to  school  de^tei  his  tears  and  piteous  i^peaiii 


■ww* 


*>m0t 


i;  '■ 


;} 


i 


t 


78 


SBOORD   BBAiriB. 


8.  Th«  air  was  rerj  penetnlmg;  add  Alphon- 
8013,  ^ho  vrm  this  time  really  wick,  became  much 
more  cplin  oonsequenoe  of  this  impmdeiit  egress. 
Wheiif  he  anired  mi  school,  he  coold  scarcelj 
Btmd ;  xmfortimately  ke  was  still  believed  to  be 
acting,  and  the  teacher,  instead  of  pitjing  him, 
became  irritated  at  his  wiles. 

9.  At  last  he  swooned  off;  he  was  then 
obliged  to  be  carried  home  and  put  to  bed. 
He  was  then  seked  with  a  violent  lerer ;  the 
•»aall-poje  made  ita  a^f»earanoe,  and  the  nnfor^ 
tmiate  Alpbonsns  remained  sereral  weeks  in 
sospense  between  life  and  death. 

10.  He  finally  recoTered,  but  his  face  was 
terribly  pitted  with  the  pox,  and  he  continued 
disfigured  the  rest  of  his  lilb.  The  liar,  says 
the  Scripture,  is  an  abomination  in  the  sight  of 
Crod ;  and  his  punishment  on  eu'th  is,  never  to 
be  believed,  even  when  he  tells  the  truth. 


■«'  "fci   ^^»0t 


LESSON  XXV. 


heath-er 
bnt-ter 
frisk4ng 
sing-ing 


trib-ute 
mid-way 
noon-tide 
Ins-tre 


fiow-ers  oeas-ed 

al-most  paneling 

droop-ing  plough-man 

woodland  be-oeath 


THS  AVOSLIFS  BILL. 


7» 


VRB  AVOBLUB   BBLL. 


1.  TTAIL,  Mary!  now  the  mm^n  up: 

.  ^  All  things aroo&dlook  glad  aad  bright, 
.  And  heather-bell  and  bntt^r-cnp 

Shake  off  the  dew-dropa  of  the  night 
The  lambs  are  frisking  in  the  fieldsi 

The  lark  is  singing  in  the  tikj ; 
And  man  his  waidng  tribute  yields 
To  thee  and  thy  sireet  Son  on  higL 

2.  Hail,  Mary  I  midway  in  the  sky 

The  noontide  sun  its  lustre  dieds ; 
The  field-flowers  almost  seem  to  die. 

So  low  they  hang  their  drooping  heads. 
The  lambs  have  sought  the  woodUmd  dmde, 

The  lark  has  ceased  her  note  of  glee ; 
And  pauring  in  the  furrowed  gkda, 

The  ploughman  lifts  his  heart  to  thee. 

3.  Hail,  Maty  I  now  the  sun  is  fiir 

Adown  his  western  path  of  Hght, 
The  floirers,  beneath  the  evening  star, 
Drink  up  the  dew-drops  of  the  night 


80 


BBOOVD   MMA9MU, 


The  lambs  are  by  their  mothers  laid, 
The  lark  is  brooding  o*er  htf  neat^ 

And  when  the  eyeniiig  prajer  is  made, 
Then  weary  man  disll  sink  to  rest 


^•#1 


gaih-er-ing 
straw-ber-ries 
pro-teci-ed 
cheer-M-ly 


e-yen-mg 
dQ-i-gent47 
oon-tin-u-ed 
fo*ri«<Mi8-l)r 


LESSON  XXYI. 

bon-net 
]o^4ng 

THB   Z.ITTLB    LAXB. 

CHRISTINA,  a  poor  little  girl  <^  abont  ten 
years,  was  in  the  woocte  gathering  straw- 
berries. It  was  a  veiy  hot  afternoon;  and  in 
the  open,  sonny  part  of  the  wood,  where  there 
was  not  a  breath  of  air,  the  heat  was  very  great 
Her  light  straw  bc»met  scarcely  ^otected  her 
from  the  burning  myB  of  the  ami. 

2.  The  clear  drops  stood  upon  her  forehead, 
and  her  cheeks  glowed  like  fire;  stiU  she  con- 
tinued diligenjtly  to  gather  Uie  strawberries, 
without  wer  looking  np.  **If*r,"  si^  sba, 
cheerMy,  as  she  wiped  her  foi^ieiid  will^'her 
handkerchief^   "tbey  are  fyr  my  pooi^  sick 


•mtim  ■ 


mother.  Tlie  iiione^  for  which  I  shall  seU  iir|r 
berries,  inll  procure  some  little  things  to  do 
her  good.  I  will  buy  het  some  mce  tea  and 
an  oranga" 

3.  Towards  eveflhlgr  with  her  basket  foil  of 
strawberries,  she  wptit  Huroogh  the  woods  back 
home.  It  began  to  gtow  very .  dark.  The 
drops  of  rain  fell  teler  and  &ster^  and  the 
heavy  peals  of  UmaAer  xeaJ^unded  in  the  dii* 
tance.  As  she  caine  (Hit  of  the  woods  f  tem- 
pest arose,  the  rain  beat  ftoriously  against  her, 
and  black  donds  arose  in  the  fiery  evening  sky, 
towering  0lrer  one  another  Hke  Ill01^lta]na 

4.  Ghriit^  kne#  ttat  the  lig^blning  most 
frequently  strikes  the  higheit  tl^eiil^  ind  there- 
fore she  sought  dMIter  at  a  #il^mce  ibom  theiti, 
beneath  some  haasel^bn^es ;  and  here  she  stood 
waiting  until  the  storm  should  pass  away.  But 
suddenly  she  heard  among  the  bushes  dose  a| 
hand,  a  mournful  cry,  almost  like  that  of  a  little 
child. 

5.  The  storm  timd  rain  and  thunder  and 
lightning  did' not  jpi«f«««^  this  good  Htlile  gid 
from  going  to  «ie  w^iait  it  wa&    She  went,  lad 
lof  ^«pe  waa  a  tecbrr  lit^  lasnb,  i^  dri|^piilf ; 
with  rain  and  fMf&ti^  in  tk»  storm,     •^m, 


1 


yon  poor  little  oreatnrel"  said  Ghridtina;  ^^  jou 
must  not  periidi'*'*-coiii6^  I  will  take  you  hom^ 
with  me.'* 


8% 


BBOOND   RIADBB. 


yon  poor  little  Gfeature!"  said  Christina;  *^  jou 
nmst  not  periaii— -come^  I  wiU  take  yon  hom^ 
with  me." 


%,  And  she  took  the  lamb  carefhlly  in  her 
anns,  and  as  soon  as  the  rain  ceased,  she  hur^ 
ried  home  with  it  to  her  little  cottage.  **  Oh, 
dear  mother!'*  said  she,  as  soon  as  she  entered 
their  dean,  tidj  little  room,  *4ook  what  I  have 
fonnd!  Look  what  a  beantiM  little  sheep  I 
Oh,  how  Inckjr  I  wael  What  oara  I  shaU  take  • 
of  it    It  shall  be  my  only  pleiMilre.'' 


■dMMa>i*i 


THB   hl'STLU    LAKB. 


83 


7.  *^C1^|'*  said  the  sick  mother,  raiang 
heraelf  up  in  bed,  i&d  raf^ximg  her  head  on 
her  hand,  *4n  your  joj  5^on  forget  that  this 
hkinb  must  have  an  owner.  It  has  only  strayed 
away,  aud,  therellie^  ire  mttst-^ve  it  back 
again.  It  probabfy^  b^ngs  to  the  rich  farmer 
over  the  hiU.  It  ii  not  right  to  keep  other 
people^s  property  a  single  mght  in  the  house. 
So  you  had  better  oarrf  it  home  to-night" 

8.  "What  nonsense !*'  cried  a  rough  voice 
through  the  <^n  window.  "  It  is  folly  to  be 
so  particular!'*  The  man  who  said  this  was  a 
mason,  who,  wlule  outside  repairing  the  wail 
of  their  cottage,  had  overheard  their  conversa 
tion.  The  mother  and  d&nghter  looked  at  him 
in  alarm;  but  he  continued:  "Why  do  you 
make  such  strange  fkoes?  I  only  speak  for 
your  good.  We  willtjut  up  the  lamb  and  di- 
vide it 

9.  "  We  shall  have  a  couple  of  little  roasting- 
pieces  from  the  flesh,  and  the  skin,  too,  is  worth 
something.  The  rich  farmer  has  more  than  a 
hundred  fine  large  sheep;  and^  doubtless,  he 
will  never  feel  the  loss  of  thid  poor  little  tiling. 
8o  1  wHl  kill  it  immediately.  And  you  need 
not  be  afraid.    No  one  sees  us,  and  yoii  may 


i 


■  i- 


.MI'HIW— 'II 


mmamtmummtimt 


^mt  me ;  I  can  be  as  silent,"  said  he,  flinging 
4  trowel  full  of  m<Mrtar  on  the  wdH — ^*as  sUent 
as  a  wall." 

10.  Christina  was  shocked  at  what  the  mason 
said.  The  thought  how  wiiked  it  would  be  to 
keep  the  lamb,  now  became  clear  to  her.  ^^  You 
are  wrong,"  said,  ^e  to  the  mason.  ^^  Though 
ho  man  sees  us,  yet  God  does  I  .  But  you,  dear- 
est mother,  are  right — and  I  onlj  wonder  that 
what  jou  said  did  not  occur  to  myself.  Gladly, 
indeed,"  continued  she,  while  the  tears  started 
into  her  eyes, /^gladly  would  I  have  kept  the 
little  lamb!  Yet  we  ought  to  be  willing  to 
obey  our  good  God." 

11.  She  wrs^ped  the  lamb  in  her  apton,  and 
went  with  it  towards  the  farmer^  though  the 
rain  had  not  yet  quite  ceased,  and  the  sun  had 
almost  set 


•^•^ 


drew 

near 

stand 

young 

Tal4ey 


LESSON  XXYII. 

thun-der        splen-dor 


el-der 
rain-bow 
point-ed 
sup-per 


dis-play 
good-ness 
charm-ed 
e-yen-ing 


light-ning 

mer-cy 

pow-er 

joy-ftiWy 

re«toro 


TBB   I«I7TLX   LAMB. 


U 


THJS   LITTLE   L^  MB. 
ooSxuruso. 

WHEN  GhriBtina  drc  v  near  the  fanner's 
house,  she  saw  his  wife  standing  at  the 
door,  with  the  youngest  child  in  her  arms, 
while  the  elder  ones  stood  around  her.  They 
were  looking  at  the  beautiful  rainbow,  which 
now  after  the  storm  appeared  among  the  dark 
gray  douds  in  all  the  splendor  of  its  seven 
Qolors. 

2.  *''  Look  at  the  rainbow,"  said  the  mother, 
as  she  pointed  wiUi  uplifted  arm,  *^and  glorify 


MtMaMMaaa 


86 


BIOOND   BIADBB. 


Him  that  made  it  in  the  fiery  lightning  und 
fearful  thunder,  God  lAtowK  us  his  great  power 
and  majesty ;  but  in  the  beauiifal  colors  of  the 
rainbow,  He  diBi^js  his  gooduess  and  His 

mercy." 

3.  ChrLrtina  Was  dbarmed,  now  in  looking  at 
the  beautiful  oolors  of  the  rainbow,  now  at  the 
smiling  faces  of  ^i  children;  and  she  was 
silent  ui^til  the  rainbow  diBappea.ed.  Then 
she  took  the  lamb  out  of  her  apron,  and  setting 
it  on  its  feet,  told  how  she  had  found  it. 

4  "  It  was  very  good  and  honest  of  you," 
said  the  farmer's  wife,  kindly,  *^  to  come  out  so 
late  in  the  evening,  and  even  while  it  was  rain- 
ing!    You  are  a  good,  honest  little  girl." 

5.  "That  she  is,  indeed,"  said  the  farmer, 
who  now  came  out  *'I  trust  that  you,  my 
children,  will  ever  be  as  honest  and  as  upright 
as  tills  poor  little  giii  It  is  better  never  to 
hava  a  single  sheep,  and  to  be  honest  and  vir^ 
tHous,  than  to  be  the  dishoi^orable  and  dishon^ 
est  possessor  of  a  hundred. 

6<  "The  honesty  whieh  impelled  this  poor 
child  to  bring  back  the  lamb,  is  a  treasure  of 
tlie  heart  more  precious  than  a  whole  flock  of 
sbcwp,*— ft  treasure  of  wMch  the  wolf  or  the 


wmttmtf 


TBS   %lt9L%   LAMB. 


87 


enemy  can  n&rar  dej^ye  her."  Frank,  tlit 
farmer's  little  boy,  now  nm  to  the  fold  and 
brought  OQt  the  old^eep. 

7.  How  the  little  ^Eiing  Jttmped  ilnd  sprang 
about  her  for  joy  I  **0h!"  cried  Christina, 
when  she  saw  this;  *4f  it  were  cmly  for  this 
delight  that  the  po^r  little  thing  feek,  I  do  not 
regret  br/aging  it  back — though  I  wished  so 
much  to  keep  itT' 

8.  "  Well,"  said  the  hrmw,  *'  since  you  are 
so  honest,  and  so  fond  of  the  little  creature,  I 
will  make  you  a  present  of  it  But  it  would 
do  you  no  good  at  present  It  cannot  Uye 
without  milk,  and  would  perish  miserably. 
But  in  about  a  fortnight  it  w^  be  strong 
enough  to  feed  on  grass  und  herj^s,  and  then 
Frank  will  bring  it  to  you." 

9.  **But>be  sare  to  take  good  core  of  it," 
said  his  wife.  *^  It  will  neither  be  tmubleaome 
nor  expemiv^  to  bring  it  up.  Whib  yon  are 
gathering  strawbenies  or  sewing,  ycm  can  eaaily 
herd  it,  and,  without  ever  trespassing  cm  any 
one's  meadow,  yon  can  gather  as  much  gr«iss  to 
dry  tor  hay,  as  will  feed  it  during  the  wkter. 

10.  ^*  Whmi  it  (mc#  grows  up,  the  nitlk  wiU 
be  Ycry  useful  tar  youfr  own  and  your  mot^sr's 


88 


BXOOITD   BXADXS* 


humble  housekeeping,  and  the  wool  will  si^i^y 
a  lew  pairs  of  stockings  every  year." 

'^And  if  you  have  hick>"  said  the  dinner's 
little  boy,  ^*  perhaps  yon  will  have  a  whole  flock 
in  time  f 

^  11.  Christina  was  forced  to  stay  for  sapper, 
and  heartily  ei^oyed  the  milk  and  bread  and 
bntter.  The  good  woman  then  gave  her  a  fine 
large  sUce  of  fresh,  rich  bntter,  wr^ped  in 
vine-leaves,  and  a  dozen  of  eggs,  to  carry  home. 
*^  Take  these  to  yonr  mother,''  said  she,  while 
^e  carefully  put  the  ^f^  in  her  apron ;  *^  greet 
her  kindly  fiom  me,  and  m&jQod  soon  restore 
her  to  health !'' 

12.  Christina  hasi^enedjoyfully  home  through 
the  flowery  little  valley.  Meanwhile  the  sky 
had  cleared,  and  the*  evening  star  and  4ke  slen- 
der moon  which  now  appeared  for  the  first 
time,  beamed  gently  !'?to  the  valley.  All  the 
flowers  and  shrubs  still  dropped  with  rain,  and 
had  a  fragrant  perfume.  Christma's  heart  felt 
indescribably  happy. 

13.  ^^The  heaven  and  earth,''  thought  she, 
*^  are  always  more  beautiful  after  a  storm ;  but 
1  never  before  saw  them  look  so  sweet  and 
lovdiy  as  they  do  this  evening." 


KOAH  XBAYSB  THX   ABK. 


89 


When  she  readied  home,  she  told  all  tills  to 
her  moth^.         t 

14  ^^ToQ  see,**  sudd  her  mother,  **it  is  jiut 
as  I  told  you.  That  is  the  pleasure  of  a  good 
conscience.  When  we  do  what  is  H^t,  onr 
heart  is  filled  with  sweet  peace ;  for  Qod 
teaches  ns  through  our  conscience  that  he  is 
pleased  with  ns.  0  Christina  I  always  hearken 
to  the  voice  of  conscience,  and  never  do  any 
thing  that  is  not  right  and  just  before  God. 

15.  "  You  know  well  we  are  poor,  and  have 
very  little  in  this  wodd;  but  let  us  keep  a 
good  conscience,  and  we  are  rich  enough ;  and 
we  will  never  want  happiness — ^yes,  the  noblest 
and  sweetest  happiness  in  the  world  will  be 


ours. 


i» 


<!>■» 


LESSON  XXV1IL« 

wa-ters       sev-en  ex-tend-ing  de-stroy-ed 

rest-ed        pe-ri-od       sub-sid-ed     as-sign-ed 
mountain   for-got-ten   cov-e-nant     dis-as-ter 

KOAH    LXAVES   THX    ABK. 

THE  waters,  after  the  Deluge,  remained  upon 
^e  earth  for  a  peiiod  of  one  hundred  and 
forty  days.    At  the  end  of  this  time,  God,  who 


90 


8BCOir])   BBAI>XB. 


bad  ift>t  foi^^otten  NcMih  in  the  Ark,  sent  ^*th 
a  strong  wind^  which  gradually  driecLnp  the 
waters.  r/ 

2.  As  the  waters  sabsided^  the  Ark  rested  on 
the  top  of  a  monntadii^  called  Ararat,  in  Arme- 
nidb  After  the  Ark  had  rested  for  some  time 
cm  this  mo^antain,  Noah,  anxions  to  know  if  the 
waters  were  dried  up  on  the  plains  below, 
opened  l^e  window  of  the  ark  and  sent  forth  a 
crow;  but  the  crow  did  not  return  again  to 
the  Ark. 

3.  He  then  sent  out  a  dove,  which,  not  find' 
ing  a  place  to  rest  upon,  returned,  and  Noah 
extending  his  hand  took  it  again  into  the  Ark 
At  the  end  of  seven  days  the  dove  was  sent 
out  again,  and  in  the  evening  of  the  same  day 
returned,  bearing  a  branch  of  green  dive, 
which  Noah  joyfully  receiv^d^  as  he  learned  by 
this,  not  only  that  the  waters  had  subsided,  but 
that  God  was  now  reconciled  with  the  world. 

4.  In  obedience  to  the  command  of  God^ 
Noah  then  went  forth  from  the  Ark,  accompa- 
nied by  his  sons  and.  their  familie^s  and  taking 
all  the  Hving  cToaturea  No  sooner  hibd  lie 
reached  the  earUi,  which  had  bea&  so  \3i&g 
deluged  in  water,  than  he  eiiicted  an  alto  ttdL 


M*»-i*  , 


^^^m^|»^mm 


r'*.'!PTr^?ir 


NOAH  IiBATlS   7K£  ARC. 


91 


ofbred  a  aocnfioe  to  Almii^iif  God,  in  grateM 
thanka  ibr  Ms  preseiratiioii  from  the  dangers  of 
the  destrojring  flood  God  Was  pleailed  tritli 
the  piety  of  Noah,  and  sioc^yted  ^e  aacrifiiw. 

5.  He  blessed  Mm  and  kiii  dhildfen,  and 
promised  nearer  to  Qwme  tlie  eaiHih  again  on 
acooont  of  ike  dins  of  men.  ^  I  wS  eatabliah,*' 
said  He,  "my  corenant  with  you,  and  all  flesh 
shall  no  more  be  destroyed  with  the  waters  of 
the  flood."  r  ^ 

6.  And  as  an  evidence  of  his  reconciliaiicm, 
and  an  assnrance  of  his  promises,  he  assigned 
the  riinbow  as  a  token  of  peaoe  between  him- 
self and  the  human  raca 

7*  "  Whenever  yon  shall  see  my  bow  in  the 
heavens,"  said  he,  "be  assured  that  I  am  mind- 
ful of  the  oontract  and  the  promises  I  have 
made,  never  to  desti^oy  the  irorld  aga^  with 
aiK>ther  good."  Faithfully  has  God  ki^t  liis 
promise;  for  to  #ie  prawHii  time  no  inaftilar  dis- 
aster has  beMe&  the  wtin^  though  th^  cnmm 
of  men  ocHoitinue  da^  to  cry  to  Heaven  te 
vengeance. 

8.  Whenever  we  see  tli#  ^autifhl  rainbow 
in  iko  heavtais^  it  ought  to  remind  v»  of  the 
'saMKey  im^  goodness  of  God  towards  us.     And 


^''«fl|<iWi*(W««<<^ 


I 


i 
•  ■ 


H 


h  t 


n 


SKOOVD   EBAIMIB. 


it  is  a  beautifiil  practice,  every  timr  we  see  the 
ndbbow,  to  make  in  our  minds  a  i  yrt  act  of 
tfiankagivkig  to  Almighty  God,  for  His  mercy 
to  fidlen  man— paying  in  all  the  fenror  of  our 
Bonis:  *^0  Grodl  we  thank  thee  for  thy  infinite 
goodness  and  mercy;  praise  be  to  thy  holy 
name  I   Pardon  and  forgive  thy  sinfhl  children ! " 


■  »'^i» 


LESSON  XXIX. 

€bi  iat-mas  '  gath-er-ed  be-gin-ning 

AiB-tii  re-peat-ed 

glati-ly  con-sent-ed 

a-greed  what>ey-er 

dr-de  dif-fer-ence 


se-n-ous 
de-struc-tion 
ex-cns-ed 
an-swer-ed 


A   NEW   GAME   FOR   OHILDBBK. 

ONE  evening,  during  the  Christmas  holidays, 
after  the  children  of  St  Bdmnnd^s  School 
had  exhausted  all  the  games  Ihey  knew,  they 
gatheredaround  sister  A?!,  exclLing:  "0^ 
sister,  give  us  a  new  garnet"  This  was  no 
sooner  said  by  one  than  it  was  repeated  by  all 
He  rest,  until  the  good  sister's  ears  were  almost 
Stunned  by  the  cries  of^  ^^  Oh  yes,  sister,  a  Mw 
eP 


A   NBV   OAMB    FOB   OHILDREN. 


93 


2.  At  last  she  consented,  if  they  would  do  ^ 
whatever  she  said,  which  ihr  -  ghidly  agreed  ta 
*^  Well,  then,"  said  8h<  form  a  circle 


around  the  stove."     An( 


aXely  a  large 


ring  was  formed.  *^Now,  outiiije!"  said  sister 
Agnes ;  and  all  wajs  quiet  except  a  few  titters. 

3.  ^*  I  am  going  to  give  jou  a  game  at  thinh- 
mg^'^  said  the  sister.  ^*  I  want  you  to  think  and 
tell  me  ihe  beat  tJimg  you  can^  ihod  begins  very 
SToall  or  trifling^  and  ends  in  something  very 
large^  great^  or  beautiful  1  shall  ju^e  i^uU  to 
be  the  best  that  has  the  greatest  di^erence  be- 
tween its  beginning  and  its  end.  And  I  have 
a  small  pruse  for  the  one  that  chooses  the  best" 
And  she  pulled  out  of  her  pocket  a  very  large 
apple,  plump  and  rosy. 

4  "I  shall  give  you  ten  minutes  to  think, 
and  no  one  must  speak  till  I  say  the  time 

18  up," 

The  apple  was  greatly  admired,  and  they 
were  soon  busy  thinking. 

^^  Time  is  up,"  said  the  sister ;  and  then  ahe 
began  to  question  the  children,  as  follows : 

5.  "  Well,  Emiliy,  what  have  you  been  think- 
ing of  ?" 

^ Going  up  a  ladder,"  snid  Emily;  "we  begin 


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tBOOVD   RXADXB. 


I! 


with  a  step  from  tlie  gfoimcl,  and  end  with  get- 
ting to  the  top  of  a  high  house." 

^^Yerj  good,"  said  sitter  Agnee.  ^  You  be- 
gin with  something  very  low,  and  end  with 
something  very  high.  A  step  at  a  time  does 
Wonders,  and  gets  over  manj  a  difficulty. 
Now,  Martha?" 

6.  ^^I  have  thought  of  the  aoom  and  an 
oak|"  said  Martha.  "  We  sow  an  aeom  in  tUe 
ground,  and  it  results  in  a  Urge,  wide-spreading 
oak" 

''  That  will  do,"  said  the  sister.  '*  Seed  is 
often  very  small,  and  the  fruit  sometimes  a 
hundred-fold  Let  us  see,  then,  that  the  seed 
we  sow  is  good,  so  that  the  fruit  may  multiply 
accordingly.     The  next  ?" 

7.  ^^  A  fire,"  said  Jenny;  ^^a  child  can  light 
a  lucillr  matoh,  but  thef  end  may  be  that  a  city 
is  destroyed." 

"Very  good,"  said  sister  Agnes.  "  Scripture 
reminds  us  how  great  a  matter  a  little  fire 
kindletfa.     Beware  of  playing  with  Ap%  then. " 

The  next  two  had  not  thought  of  any  thing. 
The  sixth  said — 

8.  **  I  thought  of  a  serious  quarrel.  A  man 
might  say  an  angry  word  to  another,  and  thus 


cause  »  qiuirr^  And  «  Sght|  and  end  in  the  lov 
of  a  life." 

«^  Very  true.  Scrip^nw  caUa  the  tongue  *  an 
unruly  member/  and  compares  a  quarrel  to  a 
destruction  by  fire.  Beware  of  eyil  word& 
The  next?" 

9.  ^*  Mine  is  a  brick  and  a  house,"  said  Xiucy. 
**  We  begpi  with  a  aingle  brick  and  end  with 
a  large  house." 

^^Yesi  it  is  sa  Then  never  despise  little 
things.  Little  by  little  does  wonders.  Now, 
Lizzy?" 

10.  **  I  hare  thought  that  we  begin  to  learn 
a  letter  at^a  time,  and  end  by  reading  all  ih» 
hard  names  in  the.  Bible." 

"Bravo I"  cried  ona  "That's  the  prize," 
said  another,  .^ 

IL  "Wait,"  said  ^e  sister;  "it  if  a  godi 
answer,  and  reminds  me  that  some  great  men 
began  to  learn  twice  two  are  four,  and  ended 
by  telling  us  how  many  miles  distant  the  sun 
and  moon  are.  Do  i^t  neglect  your  lessons, 
children.  When  you  ave  young  ladies  you  will 
need  all  you  can  learn  now." 

12.  The  next  three  had  not  thought  of  ani" 
thing,  GT  dedined  to  say  it  after  hearing  Lizay's 


"«#■ 


m^4 


i  ! 


!     I 


tl 


96 


SBOOITD    RKADXB. 


:& 


-ilMM. 


answer.  Last  o(  all,  came  litde  Emma,  wko, 
when  called  on,  said — 

**  Oh,  give^  the  prize  to  Lizzjr,  hers  is  snch  a 
good  one!'* 

13.  "  But  yon  mnst  tell  ns  yours,'*  said  the 
sister,  smilingly.  She  begged  timidly  to  be 
excused,  though  she  had  thought  of  something; 
but,  at  last,  said,  **  I  have  thought  that  we  begin 
with  asking  Jesos  to  forgive  us,  and  trusting  in 
His  diercy,  and  end  with  living  forever  with 
Him  in  heaven." 

14  ''  That's  best  of  all,''  said  Sarah. 

•*  Silence,"  said  sister  Agnes ;  "  let  me  decide. 
Those  who  have  given  an  answer  have  answered 
well,  and  given  several  good  instances  of  the 
result  of  little  thing&  Never  despise  little 
things  when  you  see  to  what  they  lead,  biat  1 
Ibink  you  will  agree  wi&  me  that  Emma's  is 
the  best  answ^.  It  begins  on  earth — ends  in 
heaven.  It  begins  while  we  are  lost  and  ruined 
— ends  with  u$  «c|/^,  Jioly,  and  happy. 

15.  "And  let  us,  deep  children,  not  be  con- 
tent with  thinking  an#  speaking  of  that  great 
salvation,  but  let  us  look  well  to  the  preaeni 
meane — bbuevino  in  God,  and  serving  Him 
alone;  and  our  final  end  will  be  happineM 


WILLT  AJTB   BIS   LITTLX  8I8TXB.      ^7 

with  Him.  in  heayen."  The  apple  was  giren  to 
Emma,  irho  insisted  that  all  should  have  an 
equal  share  of  the  Prizb.  Was  not  this  a  nice 
game,  and  a  nseful  one,  too? 

LESSON  XXX. 

de-sire     drift-ing        pre-vent-ed    has-ten-ed 
dur-ing    hap-pen-ed    anx-i-ons        shol-ter-ing 
win-ter    cov-er-ed       cheer-ful-ly     un-a-ble 


WILLT  AKD    HIS   LITTLE  "SISTER.. 

MANY  years  ago,  there  lived  in  the  State  oi 
■^  C^o,  not  far  fix)m  the  river  of  that  name, 
a  poor  widow  with  two  children,  WilUwn,  or 


98 


8I00ND   BIADIB. 


Willy,  a8  he  was  usuaDj  called,  and  Nell,  his 
sister.  The  widow  desired  that  the  two  chil- 
dren should  have  learning,  and  sent  them  to  a 
school  about  a  mile  aS. 

2.  Now  this  school,  at  that  early  period,  was 
only  kept  daring  the  winter,  and  the  children 
had  many  a  cold  walk  to  get  to  it  They  did 
not  mind  this ;  they  were  anxious  to  learn,  and 
it  was  the  will  of  their  parent,  and  they  went 
cheerfully. 

3.  it  happened  one  morning  in  February, 
that  Willy  and  his  sister  went  to  school  as  usual. 
The  morning  was  clear  and  mild,  but  towards 
evening  the  sky  was  covered  with  dark  clouds, 
the  wind  began  to  blo*^,  and  a  drifting  snow 
began  to  fall  in  large  white  flakes,  and  in  such 

I  iquantities  that  a  person  could  scarcely  see  more 
than  a  few  yards  in  any  direction. 

4.  When  school  was  out,  the  children  all 
hastened  towards  their  homes.  Little  Willy, 
taking  his  sister  by  the  hand,  ran  along  as  fast 
as  he  could  towards  his  mother^s  house.  But 
the  snow  blew  in  their  faces  and  prevented 
them  from  making  much  headway. 

5.  The  road  lay  through  a  wood ;  and,  pass- 
ing through  this,  they  lost  their  way,  and  night 


WILLT  ASD  HIS  LITTLS  SISTSB.      99 


came  on  before  they  were  able  to  find  thor 
way  to  the  road  again.  Poor  little  Nell  cried 
with  fright  and  cold.  Willy,  however,  kept  np 
his  courage,  and  tried  to  cheer  his  sister  bj 
telling  her  not  to  cry,  and  to  hold  on  firmly  to 
his  hand,  and  he  would  lead  her  safely  out  of 
the  woods.  Bnt  the  snow  and  wind  increased, 
«nd  all  the  efforts  of  the  poor  little  children  to 
find  their  way  home  were  in  vain. 

6.  At  last  Nell  fell  down,  and  was  unable  to 
go  any  &rther.  WiUy  took  her  in  his  arms  and 
tried  to  carry  her.  But  he  had  not  gone  far, 
when  he  too  fell,  overcome  with  the  &tigue  of 
walking  and  carrying  his  sister. 

7.  At  this  time  they  were  quite  near  the 
edge  of  the  wood,  and  not  &r  from  a  large 
tree.  Willy,  after  -resting  a  little,  took  up  his 
sister  again  and  carried  her  to  the  tree,  and  sat 
down  with  her,  sheltering  her  the  best  he  could 
from  the  drifting  snow. 

8.  The  poor  widow,  when  the  children  did 
not  return  at  dark,  became  almost  distracted. 
She  ran  to  several  of  her  neighbors,  telHng 
them  that  Willy  and  his  sister  were  lost,  as  she 
expected,  in  the  woods,  and  asked  them  to  go 
out  with  her  and  try  to  find  them. 


II 


100 


dBOOKB    BBJLDXR. 


9.  These  kind-hearted  people  went  with  her, 
and  after  several  hours^  hunting  the^r  fbund 
Willy  and  his  sister  at  the  foot  of  the  large 
tree,  almoA  frozen  to  deatL  They  picked 
them  up  in  their  arms  and  carried  them  to  the 
widow^s  house,  where,  with  the  aid  of  a  large 
fire  and  some  warm  drink,  they  were  soon 
restored. 


^»» 


brought 

shrine 

breath 

thought 

watch 

smile 

sweet 


LESSON 

bright 
blpoiyi 
thrqne 
song 

gift 
long 

spot 


XXXI. 

take 

heart 

might 

pray 

whitck 

word 
dowi^ 


jew-el 

pret-ty 

yir-gin 

ki^eel-ing 

sim-ple 

dew-drop 

be-hold 


LITTLE   ELLEN'S    MAY   SONG. 

1.  T^ROM  thy  bright  throne  above  the  sky, 
A  Look  down  on  us,  0  mother  sweet!      ^ 
And  smile  upon  the  gift  which  I 

Here  ofifer,  kneeling  at  thy  feet 

2.  Mother  of  God,  and  mother  mine! 

IVe  brought  some  simple  flowers  fo-day, 


^ 


That  they  may  bloom  upon  th  j  shrine, 
The  long,  long  hours  that  Tm  away^ 

3.  Behold  how  fresh  and  fair  they  are  I 
I  called  them  for  thee,  mother  dear;. 
Look  down,  0  brightest  morning  star! 
.  See  on  their  leaves  the  dew-drops  clear. 


4.  If  I  had  gold  or  jewels  rare, 
rd  place  them  at  thj  feet ; 
But  these  are  pretty  flowers  and  fisur— 
Oh,  take  them,  virgin  sweet  I 


■V. 


102 


BBOOND   BBADBB. 


lESSON   XXXII. 

in-siste  roagh-ly  in-ter-est-ed 

will-ing  ad-yis-ed  rep-u-ta-tion 

ad-vice  o-blig-ed  ey-a^nes-cent 

fin-gera  oon-cliid-ed  ni^Vu-'ral-lj 

THE   BBLF-TTILLED   BOY. 

CHARLES  is  a  boy  who  always  insists  upon 
haying  his  own  way.  It  certainly  must  be 
that  he  thinks  he  knows  more  than  anybody  in 
the  whole  world,  for  he  is  jieyer  willing  to  take 
adyice,  not  eyen  from  his  father  and  mother, 
who,  of  coarse,  know  much  better  than  he  does, 
what  is  best  for  him. 

2.  He  caught  a  yiolent  cold  the  other  day, 
and  was  confined  to  the  house  a  week,  because 
he  would  not  wear  his  cloak  to  school,  fts  his 
mother  adyised  him  to  do ;  and  it  was  but  the 
other  eyening  that  he  burned  his  fingers  yery 
badly,  when  roasting  chestnuts,  simply  because 
he  would  not  take  his  mother's  adyice,  and  take 
them  out  with  the  tongs.  He  has  had  both 
trouble  and  disgrace  many  a  time  on  account 
of  this  obstinate  temper,  but  he  does  not  seem 
to  improye. 


3.  He  had  kept  at  the  head  of  his  Lathi  daaa 
almost  a  month — and  in  two  days  more,  would 
have  obtained  the  medal,  for  which  he  was  ao 
anzions;  bat  one  day,  thinking  that  the  lesson 
looked  very  easy,  he  concluded  not  to  take  his 
Latin  Grammar,  for  he  had  a  great  many  books 
to  carry,  and  he  thought  he  should  be  able  to 
learn  his  lesson  without  it 

4  His  elder  broths,  who  knew  much  more 
about  Latin  than  he  did,  and  was  in  a  higher 
class,  observing  that  when  he  put  his  books 
into  his  satchel,  he  did  not  take  his  grammar, 
said  to  him: 

**Are  you  not  going  to  take  home  your 
grammar,  Charles?^* 

6.  "No  indeed,"  said  Charles;  "I  thmk  I 
can  learn  that  little  easy*  lesson  without  a 
grammar."  :      ;. 

"I  don't  believe  you  can,"  aiyrJohn;  "I 
know  I  could  not,  when  I  went  over  it — and  I 
don't  think  you  can.  Take  my  advice,  and 
carry  home  your  grammar,  or  you  will  be  sorry 
for  it" 

"No,  I  shall  not,"  replied  Charles,  as  he 
threw  his  satchel  over  his  should^ ;  "and  I  am 
not  going  to  tFonble  myself  about  that" 


I 


■i'>*»nw*«iw»" 


•f 


104 


8I00KD   BIADBB. 


6.  So  Charles  went  home  without  his  gram- 
mar ;  bat  when  he  began  to  studj  his  lesson  in 
the  evening,  he  found  that  he  conld  not  learn 
at  all  without  it  He  would  have  asked  his 
brother  John  to  help  him,  but  he  felt  ashamed. 
Howeyer,  he  finally  concluded  that  he  would 
rather  ask  assistance  firom  him  than  lose  his 
place  in  the  class ;  but  when  he  went  to  look 
for  John,  he  found  that  he  had  gone  out 
Gharleawas  then  obliged  to  learn  as  much  of 
the  lesson  as  he  could  without  the  grammar, 
and  leave  the  rest — ^for  John  did  not  come 
home  until  after  Obarles  had  gone  to  bed. 

7.  The  next  morning  he  had  no  time  to  look 
at  his  lesson;  and  after  he  had  taken  his  place 
in  the  class,  he  found  he  could  hardly  answer  a 
single  question — and  he  lost  his  place  in  the 
class  at  the  very  first  question  that  was  asked 
him.  He  felt  sorry  indeed  then  that  he  had 
not  taken  John's  advice;  but  his  sorrow  was 
not  of  the  right  kind,  for  it  did  not  lead  him  to 
do  better.  '  ' 

8.  The  grief  and  shame  arising  £rom  the  loss 
of  his  enviable  reputation,  Charles  soon  got 
over.  He  began  to  study  Natural  History,  and 
was  very  much  interested  in  it     One  day  he 


J 


THE  BBLr*WILLBD   BOT. 


106 


saw  a  robin's  neat  in  an  apple-tree,  in  the  gar- 
den. He  was  mnch  pleased  at  the  discoyery, 
for  he  had  been  very  anxious  to  watch  some 
birds  feeding  their  jonng,  and  teaching  them 
to  fly. 

9.  He  ran  and  told  his  father,  and  aaked 
him  if  he  might  pat  the  nest^  a  cage,  and 
hang  it  on  the  bough  of  a  tree — hoping  that 
the  old  birds  would  go  in  there,  and  feed  their 
young.  His  &ther  told  him  that  he  might,  and 
was  so  kind  as  to  go  out  into  the  garden  and 
help  him  to  fix  the  cage.  He  then  went  away, 
and  advised  Charles  to  go  away  too,  lest  he 
should  frighten  the  birds  from  going  into  the 
cage.    . 

10.  But  Charlte  thought  he  knew  better  than 
his  father,  and  niight  stay  a  little  while  without 
danger  of  friglitening  tiie  birds.  So  he  per- 
suaded Robert  to  hold  the  ladder  for  him^ 
"just  for  two  or  three  minutes.*'  Pretty  soon 
the  old  bird  began  to  fly  about  the  tree,  and 
was  just  about  to  enter  the  cage,  when  Charles, 
in  his  delighti  started  forward,  and  forgot  to 
hold  on  by  the  rounds  of  the  ladder.  He  very 
narrowly  escaped  falling,  by  catching  hold  of 
the  bough  upon  which  the  cage  was  stationed. 


6« 


106 


BEOOND   BSADSB. 


11.  But  he  shook  the  bough  so  rooghly  that 
the  string  by  which  the  cage  hung,  broke,  and 
it  was  dashed  to  the  ground.  The  little  birds 
were  killed,  and  Chfirles  was  very  sorry  that  he 
had  not  taken  his  father^s  advice. 

12.  He  formed  a  resolution  never  again  to 
be  so  self-willedr  Year  after  year  he  faithfully 
followed  the  rule  laid  down  of  his  own  accord, 
and  wjien  on  his  death-bed,  he  said,  ^^  Never 
wish  to  have  your  awn  way,''^ 


^>» 


»       lov-ing 
Bofb-ly 
bloom-ing 
flow-ers 


LESSON  XXXIII. 

de-scends  a-part         in-inn-cy 

heav-en  fer-vor        flow-er-et 

show-ers  bos-om       be-gin-ning 

bath-ed  fa-vor-ed     un-fa-ding 


^*HB    OOMES   TO    BEST  WITHIN    MT   HEART.** 

1.  TJE  comes  to  rest  within  my  heart, 

A  J.  As  meek  as  infancy ;  \ 

Oh,  what  shalLever  tear  apart 
This  loving  Guest  from  me ! 

2.  As  on  the  softly-blooming  flowers 

The  dews  descend  at  even. 


So  grsce  upon  my  heart  in  diowers 
Descends  from  holy  Heayen. 

3.  And  as  the  flow*ret,  bathedin  dew, 
Breathes  odors  from  its  breast, 
So  shall  my  favored  bosom,  too, 
Breathe  fervor  to  mv^nest 


4.  Ho  comes  to  rest  within  my  heart, 
As  meek  as  infancy : 
Oh,  what  shall  ever  tear  apart 
This  loving  Guest  from  me  I 


•  »■  r  * . 


h 


108 


BBOOVD    RBADBS. 


de-light-ed 
cm-el-ly 
o-pen-ing 
scat-ter-ed 


LESSON-  XXXI Y. 

ex-ceed-ing 
ro-guish-ly 
pret-ti-ly 
^  ac-qaaint-ed 

w 

THB   BEDBBEAST. 


per-oeiv-<>d 
beau-ti-ful 
po-ta-toes 
will-ing-ly 


LITTLE  Martin  was  deKghted  beyond  meas 
ure  with  the  birds  in  the  wood  and  theii 
sweet  songs.  "  Grandfather,"  said  he,  "  may 
we  not  catch  one  and  take  it  home  to  the 
house?" 

2.  *'Nay,"  answered  his  grandfather, 
must  not  be." 

"Why  not?"  said  the  child.     "Th|^ 
delightfully.     In  the  house  we  might  alwiBpf 
hear  them  sing." 

3.  "  You  can  hear  them  singing  here  in  the 
wood,"  said  his  grandfather;   "it  sounds 
better  here.     The  poor  birds  that  men  ca 
so  cruelly,  seldom  live  long,  and  often  pe 
by  their  neglect." 

4.  One  fine  harvest  day,  however,  in  autumn, 
the  grandfather  and  his  grandson  were  seated 
in  a  sunny  opening  of  the  wood,  at  their  humble 


THX   BSDBRXAAT. 


109 


dinner,  which  the  boj  had  as  usual  brought 
with  him  in  a  basket 

5.  A  robin  redbreast  came  and  pidked  up 
the  crumbs  scattered  about     The  little  fellow 


WW  delighted  with  it  **  What  a  very  pretty 
bird  I  ^^  exclaimed  he  to  his  grand&ther,  speak- 
ing low,  however,  in  order  not  to  disturb  it 
^^  There  is  nothing  I  would  not  give  to  have 
such  a  bird  in  our  room  during  the  winter.*' 


f 


110 


SBCOVD   BSAlXi&R. 


6.  **  And  80  yoa  may/*  answered  liis  grand- 
father; *Hhe  robin  is  a  yerj  tame  bird,  and 
willing^  dweUs  with  man.  Perhaps  it  would 
rather  paas  the  winter  under  a  rooi^  than  in  the 
open  air/'  His  grandfather  then  taught  the 
boy  how  to  catdi  one. 

7.  Little  ]i&||hi  ran  every  day,  for  a  whole 
week,  to  the  lm>d,  to  tte  if  there  was  not  a^ 
robin  caught  But  he  always  eame  home 
empty»hmde^  apid  had  dtnost  giv^  up  all 
hopes  of  0^$iig  one.  M  last,  one  day  he 
came  ninifil%  liMlM  fli^  of  Joy. 

8.  «' GfaaiMber,''  he  llriWl,  **8ee,  I  have 
one  ai'laitl  €^,  ktdc  al  Ilia  beiatiftil,  little, 
bright,  bladk  eyes^  and  wImiI  a  lovely  yellow- 
red  his  bEiiit  M  S  am  not  sal)^  now  (or  all 
my  care  and  trouble.*  Hi  let  the  bird  fly  in 
the  room,  a^  his  d#^ht  was  yet  greater  when 
he  perceived  that  it  was  not  afraid,  but  snapped 
up  the  flies  about  the  room,  ate  the  grated, 
yellow  turnips  mixed  with  flour,  out  of  the 
little,  green  earthenware  trough,  and  washed 
himself  in  the  water-bowL 

9.  Martin  brought  a  fresh,  green,  little  pine 
from  the  wood,  and  fixed  it  in  the  comer  of 
the  room.     The  bird  immediately  flew  to  it 


THS   BXDBBXAST. 


Ill 


'Tell  ac- 

ofif  his 

and  eat 


*^  Aha  !^*  exclaimed  |[artiii,  **  he  kiioip|]uB  place. 
How  liyely  he  napi  ftom  branch  to  branch  I 
How  rognishlj'  he  loois  oi$  from  belireen  the 
branchos,  axiA  |bw  |i^k^  Ui^^cL  breast  con- 
trasts with^ir  itfA  ge^nT* 

10.  The^ifi^kl  iiiOii  becit 
quainted  wft&  hipi  #o«ld  p! 
fingers,  s^  ^.  t|ii  «dg)B  of  Ui 
with  him ;  «ii^i||Dil  Came  t0 
exceedinglj.  "  IIK|^i&  went  ^ 
window  into  ^  gafdeiii^  and 
hedge,  singing,  but  always  came  back  of  his 
own  accord. 

11.  The  bird  wa^  the  source  of  a  thousand 
pleasures  to  Martin ;  and  when  he  first  began 
to  sing,  Martin  held  his  breath,  and  listened 
with  such  delight  to  the  low,  livelj  twitter, 
that  no  prince  ever  heard'  a  first-rate  flute- 
player  with  more  pleasure. 


es 
open 
about  the 


lO— 


eight 
thick 
Hght 
plain 


lEssoN  xxxy. 

school  Ute 

bright  rule 

pray 


should 


right 


sirk 


stuff 
dunce 
short 
leam 


it 


112 


8100HD   UBADSB. 


<»OIKO   TO   dOHOOK. 
*       MOTBKB. 

L  WILLip,  it  ia  half-past  eight, 
w'  Andlfearyon  wittbehite; 
DoD^t  forget  jroor  teacher's  nide; 
Take  your  hat,  atid  nm  to  8cho<^ 

WILLIXi 

2.  Mother,  I  am  tired  to-day,  v 

Let  me  stay  at  h6in6, 1  pray ; 
The  air  is  iraims,  and  dosoi  and  thick^ 
And,  really,  I  am  almost  sick.  .  . 

MOTBXB» 

9^  Tonr  cheek  is  red,  yomr  eye  is  bright, 
Your  hand  is  cool,  your  step  is  light; 


OOIVO  TO  SCHOOL. 


113 


At  breakfi»t-time  joa  Ate  jom  fill — 
How  can  it  be  that  joa  are  ffl  f 


4.  True,  mother,  Tiaiiot  M  enough 
To  take  1117  be^/t^  dockn^V  stuff; 
Bat  yet  iKt  home  pray  le|  lis  stay^ — 
I  want  to  nm  alK>iit  an^^pay. 


^  Ahl  thaf I  ftdi  Ihing.    1^6w,  let  me  see, 
Next  Jime  yglypiine  yean  old  infi  he ; 
And  if  yoa  ^^^  Btaj  at  h^me, 
What  olyoiur  le^^i^u^ 

6.  BvLijugt  this  anedfAl  shall  not  stay 
At  home  another  sin^e  day ; 

I  do  not  think  *t  will^nake  a  fool 
To  stay  JtM<  once  amy  from  sdiooL 

HOTBXB. 

7.  Stay^pi,  and  it  is  v^  plain 
Yot^wish  to  do  the  same  again ; 
IVe  seen  a  litUe  teasing  dunce, 
Whose  ory  was  always,  Jualihia  once/ 


6.  A  day*s  but  a  short  time,  you  know — 
1  shaU  learn  little,  if  I  go; 


•?•■ 


i 


Beiidefit  IVe  had  no  tim«  M  all 
To  try  mj  marbles  and  mj  biplL 

9.  The  be0  gains  little  J^m  ft  jBower— 
A  stQpe  a  d«^  wiU,  i^se  a  towior ; 
Yet  the  Utq  ifi  filled,  the^^er  is  done^ 
Ifsteadilygpf^orkgoeia^oo,  r 

10.  Have  yoa  ^got  t|^t  weary  day 

Ypii  9t|ty9d  ^  home  from  8cbQ9l  to  play  ? 
How  ojften  you  went  in  and  out, 
'  And  how  yoi;  fretted  all  about?  ' 

11.  Then  think  how  ^y  yon  laugh  and  ^n, 
When  school  is  o*er,  and  W0]$  is  done ; 
There's  nothing  flOs  the  heart  with  joy 
Like  doing  as  we  Bhculd^  my  boyi 

12.  Yes,  mother,  yon  are  right,  'tis  plain ; 
I  shall  not  ask  to  stay  again ; 

I  will  not — ^no,  not  even  for  once — 
Leave  school  for  play,  and  be  a  dnnce. 


<««^ 


ten-der-ly 

as-sur-Qd 
hes-i-tate 


LESSON  IIITI. 

of-fe;rHQd  mur-mnr-ing 

in-tend-ed  la^t^n-ed 

joup-ney-ed  p^-tri-arch 


ABRABAH't   I^ACBIFIOE. 


115 


ABBASAM'b  :|A«Biri€B. 

GOD,  to  try  tlie  fldth  of  Abra^sm,  ordered 
him  to  take  his  son  baao,  whom  he  tenderly 
lovedf  «nd  offer  him  in  sacrifice  «n  a  certain 
mornitalfi  ifiiick  He  sbonld  poiiA  out  to  him. 
The  holy-patiiareh,  tlioagh  hQ  had  been  assured 
that  his  son  woirid  beeoiM  the  filler  of  a  nu- 
merous race,  did  not  hesitate  a  moment  to  obey 
the  command  of  God. 

2.  Without  delay,  he  made  the  preparations 
necessary  for  the  sacrifice;  and,  rising  early  m 
the  morning,  he  set  out,  accompanied  by  his 
son  Isaac  and  two  servants. 


I 


116 


8X0OKD   BXADXB. 


3.  When  they  came  to  the  foot  of  the  moun- 
tain,  on  whicjii  the  offering  was  to  be  made, 
Abraham  tolil  Ike  servaots  to  remain  there, 
while  he  and  his  am  ihonld  go  np  and  adore 
God.  He  carried  in  Ilia  hmd  ^  fire  and 
sword,  while  IsaiN)  l^re  on  his  shoulders  the 
wood  destined  to  eonsnme  the  rietim. 

4.  As  thej  jonniuqrefl  togettor^  Isaac  asked 
his  fiither  wheie  the  i^c^  was  whMi  ihey  in- 
tended to  olbm  Ihii  qtrastioB  deeply  touched 
the  patriarch's  heift^^JMit  he  dissembled  his 
feelingij^  iyid  tegVM,  4ayu^|f  ^&^my  son, 
will  pro^de  a  viotiMfar  WamXt^ 

5.  Having  arriTed  at  the  top  of  the  moun- 
tain, Abraham  erected  an  altar,  and  taking 
Isaac,  bound  him  to  the  pilei  l^en  he  took 
his  sword,  and  iras  ab^ut  to  biir^  its  point  in 
the  breast  of  lus  son,  when  m  a&g^  stayed  his 
arm.  at  the  same  tiuuB  cnJ^iiMg  hkttk  by  name. 
Abrahem  looked  rowid,  and  saip  a  ram^fi^tened 
by  the  horns  among  the  brambles,  which  he 
took  and  offered  in  sacrifice  instead  of  his  son. 

6.  From  the  ready  obedience  of  Abraham, 
children  should  learn  to  obey  Almigby  God, 
who  speaks  to  them  through  their  peirei^  and 
superiors,  without  murmuring  of 


and  witbont  stopping  to  inquire  the  reaaoos 
why  they  are  required  to  do  what  they  are 
desired.  By  doing  this,  obedience  will  beoome 
a  pleasing  dnty,  and  endear  them  to  all  who 
know  thenL 


,         ^t»! 


LESSON  XXXTII. 


wood-ran-ger 

fowl-ing-piece 

di-rec1red 

re-tom-ed 

for-ee4er 

rar-i-ty 


yege-il^es 
cai^li-flow-^ 


pos-si-ble 

di-rec-tion 

po-si-tion 

fidth-fuMy 

de-acrib-ed 

pil-grim-age 


TH9  OAKBS. 


Y 0X1118^  l^red,  m  gKf^M^elj  bo^aboat  ten 
ylHH  eld^  iros  the  son  4)1  ^e  iRod-ranger. 
His  &tker  foedved  « letter  one  moffiii^,  which 
he  waa  td  ewijto  the  caafle  tfiAt  kiy  beyond 
very  high  nioQtttiiii(%.  JNil  in  the  heart  of  a 
thick  forest 

2.  *^  It  win  be  a  hard  jonmey/^  said  the  fa- 
ther, **especiaHy  as  the  hurt  I.  got  the  other 
^  HI  Uio  foot,  wh«i  we  wert  hunting,  is  not 
yel  heiAed.  Bnt  sinoe  onr  good  master  orders 
it,  I mWdbey.'* 


118 


8B0OND   itlADBB. 


3«  But  Fr^d  offered  to  cany  the  letter, 
**  Send  me,  dear  fikthm*,"  lie  said.  **  The  whole 
road,  I  know,  goes  through  a  foreat|  but  I  do 
iiot  niiiid  that  I  know  it  well  froBoi  this  to  our 
own  bounds,  and  can  easily  find  out  the  rest  of 
it,  and  safely  give  the  letter  into  the  hands  of 
Herr  von  Bai])ifn(rtiii|." 


4  ''Tes7weU,"3kua  the  ftth^;  ''give  the 
leUer  into  his  own  h^^^^s-^-jou  km>w  him  we& 
There  is  a  largo  suia  of  ^o^^ey  4:11  Urn  tetter; 
perhape  yo«  may  g«t  mmOmg  for  yow  tw* 
ble."    He  then  described  the  road  &>?  Vjp^ 


TXS  OAXSS. 


119 


6.  Ue  little  fellow  budded  on  his  hunting- 
poach,  and  slinging  his  fcwling^piece  orer  his 
sfaoolder,  started  ol  )t  i;>mnie7. 

€.  He  arrived  jafo  ai  the  oasUe,  and  told  the 
sorants  the:  he  haa  been  directed  to  deliver 
the  letter  iui.o  the  master's  own  hand.  A  ser- 
vant led  him  np  the  broad  stone  stej^s,  into  a 
splendid  apartment,  where  von  Rauhenstein  was 
engaged  with  a  partj  of  officers  at  the  card-table. 

7.  Fred  made  his  best  bow  to  the  gentlemen, 
and  dehvered  his  letler,  in  wliicli|4t  appeared, 
there  were  one  hmidred  gold  piecea  Herr  von 
Rauhenstein  went  to  his  wnting-desk,  and  wrote 
a  few  lines,  admowledging  ^e  receipt  of  the 
moneys  *^  All  right,'*  said  he,  sitting  down  in  a 
hurry  to  the  card^taUe.  ^  Ton  can  retire  now 
— ^no  other  answw  is  at  present  necessary — ^it 
will  follow  you." 

H.  WiiSk  ^  heavy  heart,  peer  Fred  relumed 
iomn  the  broad  stone  stairs ;  for  he  was  hungry 
and  thirsty,  and  quite  tired.  But  as  he  was 
passing  through  the  court,  he  was  met  by  the 
cook,  who  was  coming  out  d  the  garden,  with 
a  large  knife  in  one  hand  afid  some  cauliflowers 
in  the  otiier.  She  knew,  by  the  poor  boy's 
face,  the  atate  of  his  feelings. 


120 


BIBCOND    BSADSB. 


9.  **  Come  with  me,  little  forest^/'  said  she, 
kindly,  *^  and  I  will  give  you  some  bread  and  a 
drink  of  good  beer.  You  might  otherwise 
fiednt  npon  the  road:  you  are  fiir  from  home, 
and  there  is  not  a  single  house  on  the  way. 
Tou  must  not  take  it  ill  of  our  master  that  he 
offered  you  nothing  to  eat :  he  does  not  think 
of  such  things ;  yet  he  finds  no  &ult  when  we 
giye*to  those^who  need  it^' 

10.  The  cook  led  Fred  into  the  kitchen, 
where  the  l^ge  fire  was  blazing  on  the  hearth. 
"Lay  aside  you/  pouch  and  fowling-piece,  and 
sit  down  here,"  said  she,  pointing  to  a  little 
table  in  the  cornei  of  the  kitchen.  She  then 
brought  him  plenty  of  soup  and  meat,  vegeta- 
bles and  bread,  and  a  small  pot  of  beer. 

11.  Fred  thought  he  had  never  been  feasted 
so  sumptuously.  He  was  refreshed,  and  ready 
for  his  journey ;  but  before  he  started,  he  said 
to  the  cook,  one  hundred  times,  at  least,  ^^  Grod 
reward  you!"  and  that,  too,  with  as  much  rev- 
erence as  if  she  had  been  the  lady  of  the  castle. 
He  eVen  kissed  her  hand,  although  she  tried  to 
prevent  him. 

12.  Happy  as  a  prince,  Fred  set  out  on  his 
journey.    But  when  he  had  been  nearly  half  an 


TBIB   0AKX8. 


131 


hour  cm  the  road,  he  saw  a  iqnirrel  in  an  open 
space  in  the  forest  The  little  animal  was  quite 
a  rarity  to  him,  for  he  had  scarcely  ever  seen 
one  in  the  forest  where  he  lived.  Fred  was 
very  young,  and,  perhaps,  the  good  beer  had 
got  into  his  head ;  but,  at  all  events,  he  resolved 
to  take  the  squirrel  alive. 

13.  He  ihing  a  piece  of  a  rotten  bough  at 
the  little  animal,  and  started  in  full  ehase,  from 
oak  to  of^,  into  the  depths  of  the  black  forest, 
where  he  lost  sight  of  his  game,  w/f^  what  was 
much  more  serious,  lost  the  road.  He  wan- 
dered about  during  the  rest  of  the  day,  and 
half  the  succeeding  night,  throi^h  tiie  thick 
forest,  till,  at  last,  sinking  with  hunger  and 
fatigue,  he  crept  beneath  some  low  bushes,  and 
fell  into  a  troubled  sleep. 

14.  He  rose  in  the  morning,  more  faint  than 
he  had  been  before  he  lay  down.  He  looked 
around,  and  advakiced  he  knew  not  whither. 
The  place  was  utterly  unknown  to  him.  The 
wild  deer,  starting  up  and  bounding  off  in  ter- 
ror when  they  saw  him,  convinced  him  that  he 
must  be  in  the  heart  of  some  unfrequented  wood. 

16.  A  herd  of  swine  crossed  his  path,  and 
among  them  a  huge  boar,  which  threatened 


123 


8E00VD    BBADEB. 


him  with  its  sharp  tasks,  and  made  tha  poor 
boj  scream  in  agonj,  snd  fly  for  his  life.  H« 
oontinned  to  wander  about  mitil  noonday, 
when,  nnable  to  move  farther,  he  tottered  and 
fell  exhausted  to  the  ground. 

16.  He  cried  and  called  as  loud  as  he  could, 
but  there  was  no  answer  except  the  echo  of  his 
voice  in  the  silent  forest.  He  could  nowhere 
find  a  berry  or  even  a  drop  of  water  to  quench 
his  hunger  and  thirst  He  cast  himself^  faint 
and  despaiillig,  at  the  foot  of  a  pine-tree.  He 
earnestly  prayed  to  God  not  to  let  him  famish 
in  the  forest 

17.  Tormented  by  hunger,  he  searched  in  his 
pouch,  to  find,  if  possible,  a  few  crumbs  of  the 
bread  which  he  had  brought  with  him  from 
home,  and  eaten  on  the  road  to  Bauhenstein. 
But  what  was  his  joy — ^his  rapture,  on  finding 
a  large  piece  of  cake  and  some  juicy  peara 
'*0h!"  said  he,  ^4t  was  the  cook  put  these 
here,  without  my  knowledge."  ^ 

18.  The  poor  boy  shed  tears  of  gratitude, 
and  resolved  that  he  would  be  always  charitsr 
ble  to  the  needy,  especially  if  they  were  stran- 
gers; and  also,  that  if  ever  he  were  rich  encmgh, 
he  certainly  would  not  forget  the  kindness  of 


T«B  GAl^BS, 


12i3 


the  good  eook.  ^'Uodw  Gpd,"  said  he,  **it 
was  she  that  saved  my  life.  If  she  had  not 
giveii  me  the  cake  and  pears,  I  should  hav.e 
perished  here  in  the  wild  forest ^^ 

19.  Fred  rose,  refreshed  and  strengthened, 
and  proceeded  onward  again  with  renewed 
ooarage.  He  walked  on  in  the  direction  of 
his  home,  as  well  as  he  could  judge  bj  the 
position  of  the  sun ;  and  after  having  advanced 
for  about  three  miles,  he  heard  th<9  cheering 
sounds  of  the  woodman^s  axe  in  t^g|distance. 

20.  Harrying  on  in  the  direcEon  of  the 
sounds,  he  found  two  men  cutting  down  a  large 
pine-tree.  They  pointed  out  the  road  he  must 
take,  and  he  arrived  safely,  to  the  great  joy  of 
his  parents,  who  had  been  dreadfully  alarmed 
on  his  account 

21.  His  father  reproved  him  severely,  and 
gave  him  good  advice.  "  Thus  it  is,^'  said  he, 
among  other  things,  ^^when  men  allow  them- 
selves to  be  drawn  away  from  the  right  road  to 
follow  their  pleasures.  You  might  have  per- 
ished in  that  wild  wood,  far  from  your  father's 
house,  without  the  poor  consolation  even  of 
catching  that  squirrel. 

22.  ^^Our  way  through  life  is  like  a  road 


^ 


124 


SZOOITD   BSADSB. 


throBgh  a  wild  forest,  where  numj  a  pleasure, 
like  lluit  alluring  little  animal,  seeks  to  entice 
us  from  the  path  of  virtue.  As  I,  dear  f*red, 
faithfully  described  to  you  the  right  road 
through  the  forest,  so  God  points  out  to  us  in 
his  commandments  the  true  path  for  our  pil- 
grimage through  this  world.  Let  no  earthly 
pleasure  ever  seduce  you  to  the  right  or  the  left, 
from  jbhe  way  of  virtue.  One  false  step  might 
ruin  you  forever,  and  prevent  you  from  entering 
your  truefUiher's  house  beyond  the  grave. 

23.  "The  love  of  pleasure,"  he  continued, 
"perverts  the  heart  of  man,  and  makes  him 
insensible  to  noble  and  generous  feelings. 
Herr  von  Bauiienstein,  with  whom  you  are  so 
much  displeased,  is  far  from  being  a  bad  man. 
But  he  was  so  much  taken  up  with  his  play, 
that  he  never  thought  either  of  giving  yon 
some  refreshment,  though  you  stood  so  much 
in  need  of  it,  or  some  money,  though  the  hun- 
dredth part  of  what  he  had  staked  that  mom* 
ing  would  have  sent  you  home  as  happy  as  a 
prince. 

24.  "  But  guard  yourself  against  that  whioh 
displeases  you  so  much  in  another;  let  your 
pleasure  or  your  own  will  never  engage  you, 

■■■     '       ■  ■  ■  '  '  ■  I  ,    ■    ■      , 


ST.  akoxla's  Tisioir. 


125 


so  as  to  make  yon  insensible  to  the  wants  and 
happiness  of  others.  Imitate  whateyer  join 
find  good  in  others ;  be  ever  as  kind  luad  gen- 
erous to  all  men  as  Rosalie,  the  cook,  was  to 
yon  in  the  castle  of  Ranhenstein.'* 


^>» 


lESSON  XXXYin. 


qni-et 

or-phan 

lov-ed 

with-out 

vir-gin 


tibink-ing 

liv-ed 

want-ed 

nn-cle 

sel-dom 


a-part 

spir-its 

per-son 

lone-ly 

lOY-ing 


oth-er 

moth-er 

thir-ty 

call-ed 

re-quest 


ST.   ANGEItl.*E^  TXAION. 

You  have  all  heard  i^nt  Itdj.    It  is  a 
lovdy  land.    Rome  k  in  Italf,  and  our 
Holy  Father  the  Pope  lives  in  Aome. 

2.  WeQ,  in  a  town  named  Salo,  in  Italy,  a 
great  many  years  ago,  there  lived  two  little 
girls,  who  were  orphans.  Their  parents  had 
been  very  wealthy,  but  they  were  dead,  and 
the  little  girls  lived  with  their  uncle. 

3.  These  little  orphans  loved  God  very  much, 
and  they  wanted  to  do  His  will  in  all  thinga 

When  we  see  a  rose-bud,  we  know  it  will 


I 


126 


SBOOND   BB^DBB. 


blosaom  and  be  »  rose.  When  we  see  a  child 
loving  Ck>d  more  than  all  eke,  we  are  very  eer- 
tain  that  God  will  &yor  that  child  with  great 
graces. 

4  These  littk  girls  wi'^hed  to  be  alone  with 
God.  Once  they  went  far  away  into  a  lonely 
place,  that  they  might  be  free  to  pray,  and  to 
think  of  JesuB. 


Their  ancle  found  them  at  laat,  «t^  took 
them  home,  but  gave  them  a  qoiet  place  in  his 
house ;  and  there  the/  Hved  pure  and  prayer- 
ful lives,  like  angda. 

5.  One  of  the  little  girls  was  named  Angela. 
Is  it  not  a  lovdy  name  ?    I  thii^E  it  must  be  a 


ST.    AjraXLA^B   YIAXOH. 


127 


very  dull,  gr  «  vary  bad  person,  who  cvi  faeaz 
it,  without  thinking  of  Grod  and  Heair«in. 

6.  These  little  giris  loved  each  other  more 
than  most  sisters  do,  because  thej  loved  God 
so  much.  Thejr  were  seldom  a{)art,  and  were 
so  dear  to  each  other  that,  to  see  Uiem,  one 
would  think  that  if  one  of  them  were  to  die,  it 
would  break  the  heart  of  the  other. 

7.  But  God  chose  to  let  the  little  saint  An- 
gela be  left  without  this  sister,  and  so  He  caUed 
her  to  himself  She  died  before  a  priest  could 
be  called:  so  little  Angela  was  very  sad  about 
the  state  of  her  sister's  soul 

8.  She  asked  God  to  give  her  light  upon 
this;  and  her  request  was  made  with  such  sim- 
ple &,ith,  that  it  was  granted, 

9.  .%e  wiis  passing  once  through  a  beautiful 
place,  when  sl^e  cao^  to  a  road,  called  the 
Narrow  One.  Here  sh«  saw  a  bright  doud, 
and  paused  to  look  at  it 

10.  The  road  to  Heaven  is  a  narrow  one,  so 
it  was  well  thaiahe  saw  what  die  did  in  this 
place. 

While  she  was  looking  at  the  doud,  she  saw 
the  virgin  Mother  of  God  with  her  sister,  and 
they  were  bright  with  the  light  of  Heaven. 


11.  There  were  with  them  a  great  many  fiiir 
angela,  with  white  wings  and  golden  harps; 
and  do  yon  wonder  that  little  Angela  fell  upon 
her  knees,  and  thanked  Grod  with  all  her  heart? 

12.  Her  sister  told  her  to  be  jnst  as  loying 
and  true  to  God  ail  through  her  life  as  she  then 
was,  to  try  and  be  bett(ir  and  better  every  day, 
and  that  then  she  would  at  last  share  in  her 
glory.' 

13.  The  cloud  vanished  from  her  sight;  but 
little  Saint  Angela  was  left  with  a  joy  in  her 
soul,  like  the  bliss  of  the  holy  spirits  in  the  skies. 

14.  You  should  read  her  life,  and  learn  from 
her  to  be  good  and  pure.  Her  feast  is  the 
thirty-first  of  May. 

Little  Angela  became  the  foundress  of  a 
great  religious  order  in  the  Church,  called  the 
Ursulines,  who  are  constantly  engaged  in  in- 
structing little  ch^dren. 


LESSON  XXIIX 


hear 
land 
band 
shore 


bet-ter 
sun-ny 
per-fume 
star-ry 


fra-grant 
or-ange 
re-gion 
ra-di-ant 


feath-er-y 
glit-ter-ing 
glo-ri-ouB 
di-a-mond 


THB   BBTTBB   LABD. 


129 


1. 


THB   BBTTBB   LAITD. 

^*  T  HEAR  thee  speak  of  the  better  land; 

-L  Thon  callest  its  children  a  h^ppj  band. 
Mother,  oh,  where  is  that  radiant  shore  ? 
Shall  we  not  seek  it,  and  weep  no  more  ? 
Is  it  where  the  flower  of  the  orange  blows, 
And  the  fireflies  dance  thro\  i  the  mjrtle 
boughs?" 

"Not  there,  not  there,  my  child." 

"  Is  it  where  the  feathery  palm-trees  rise, 
And  the  date  grows  ripe  nndier  sunny  skies  ? 
Or  ^mid  the  green  islands  of  glittering  seas, 
Where  fragrant  forests  perfume  the  breeze, 
And  strange,  bright  bird%  on  their  starry 

wings, 
Bear  the  rich  hues  of  all  glarious  things?" 
"Not  there,  not  tiiere,  my  child." 

"  Is  it  far  away,  in  m^  jn^gioa  old. 
Where  the  rivers  wonder  o*er  sands  of  gold. 
Where  the  burning  rays  of  the  mby  shine. 
And  the  diamond  lights  up  the  secret  mine. 
And  the  pearl  gleams  forth  from  the  coiiJ 

strand,— 
Is  it  there,  sweet  modier,  that  better  landf  * 
"  Not  there,  not  there,  my  child. 


**  Eye  hath  not  seen  it,  my  gentle  boy, 
Ear  hath  not  heard  its  deep  songs  of  joy ; 
Breams  cannot  picture  a  world  so  Mr ; 
Sorrow  and  death  may  not  enter  there ; 
Time  docs  not  breathe  on  its  fadeless  bloom. 
Far  beyond  the  clouds  and  beyond  the  tomb : 
It  is  there,  it  is  there,  my  child." 


^•» 


nice-ly 

mot-tied 

bird-lings 


LESSON  XL. 

iurstead  branches 

dwell-ings      qui-et 
crea-tures       of-ten 


con-trive 

won-der 

per-haps 


THB   BIRD^S   KBST. 

WHO  has  not  seen  a  birdV  nest,  hid  away 
ever  so  nicely  among  the  green  branches 
in  some  quiet  spot? 


2.  How  pretty  it  looks,  and  how  glad  little 
boys  are  when  they  spy  it  out,  with  its  mottled 
little  eggs  or  its  young  family  of  birdlings.  If 
the  parent  birds  be  near,  'they  will  caiefnlly 
conceal  their  little  ones,  and  boys  cannot  take 
them  or  the  eggs ;  but  when  the  old  birds  are 
away  in  search  of  food,  then  bad  boys  often 
rob  the  nest,  without  thinking,  perhaps,  of  the 
grief  it  will  cause  then^  - 

3.  Instead  of  robbing  birds*  nests,  boys  ought 
to  examine  them,  and  see  how  they  are  made. 
If  they  do,  they  will  wonder  liow  little  crea- 
tures like  the  birds  can  contrive  such  dwellings 
for  their  young,  and  make  them  without  aid 
from  man. 

4.  Then  you  will  think  how  is  it  that  birds 
can  do  such  things,  and  you  will  remember  that 
it  is  our  good  God  who  gives  the  bird  skill  to 
build  its  nest  You  wiU  see  in  it  another  proof 
of  the  wonderM  care  which  God  has  over  all 
his  creatures 


^■» 


ut-ter 

hid-den 

mo-tion 


lESSON  ILL 

feU-ing  con-trite 
thy-self  sim>plest 
sin-ners       maj-es-ty 


e-ter-nal 

M-low-ship 

in-ter-cede 


133 


8B00ND  BBADBB. 


PBATSR. 

L   pRAYER  is  the  sours  sincere  desire, 
-■•   Uttered  or  unexpressed ; 
The  motion  of  a  hidden  fire, 
That  trembles  in  the  breast 

2.,  Prayer  is  the  burden  of  a  sigh, 
The  falling  of  a  tear ; 
The  upward  glantnng  of  an  eye. 
When  none  but  God  is  near. 

3.  Prayer  is  the  amplest  form  of  speech 
Piai^k&nt  lips  can  try ; 
Prayet  tlie  sublimest  strains  that  reach 
The  Majesty. on  high. 

4  Prayer  is  the  Christianas  vital  breath, 
The  Christianas  native  air ; 
His  watchword  at  the  gates  of  death : 
He  enters  heaven  by  prayer. 

6.  Prayer  is  the  rinner'g  contrite  voice, 
Betaming  from  his  ways; 
While  angdbs,  in  their  songS|  rejoice, 
And  say:  ^* Behold,  he  prays!'' 


THE   FOLD    AND   THE    SHEPHERD.     133 


church 
cares 
fold 
tends 


lESSON  XIII. 

fidnt  be-long  psrcb-ed 

shade  shep-herd  stand-ard 

tre^  bles8-ed  plant-ed 

quite  wea-iy  shad-ed 


THE   FOLD   AND   THE   BHEPHBBD. 

TOU  have  all  heard  of  the  fold  of  Christ,  my 
dear  children.  Well,  that  fold  means  the 
Church,  to  which  you  and  all  of  us  belong, — 
the  Church  founded  by  Christ  himself,  when  he 
lived  on  earth,  to  keep  His  people  from  wandei> 
ing  about  the  world,  like  sheep  that  had  no 
shepherd.  That  is  His  fold,  and  in  it  He  gath- 
ers all  His  people  together,  tends,  and  cares  for 
them,  as  a  good  shepherd  does  his  sheep. 


134 


8EC0KD    BEADEB, 


2.  In  the  picture  you  see  our  blessed  Lord 
giving  drink  from  His  chalice  to  one  of  His 
poor  sheep.  I  am  sure  it  has  been  straying 
away  from  the  fold ;  for  it  looks  faint  and 
weary,  as  thougji  it  had  travelled  far  without 
any  thing  to  eat  or  drink. 

3.  How  kindly  our  Lord  raises,  its  poor  head^ 
and  puts  the  cap  to  its  parched  lips !  So  He 
does  with  the  poor  sinner  who  returns  to  Him. 

4.  You  see  the  cross  in  the  shade  of  that 
spreading  tree.  That  is  our  Lord^s  standard, 
planted  by  himself  within  His  Church.  See 
how  the  sheep  lie  in  the  cool  shade  of  the  tree, 
around  the  foot  of  the  cross.  They  seem  quite 
happy.  So  will  you,  too,  dear  little  boys  and 
girls,  so  long  as  you  keep  near  the  cross  which 
is  shaded  by  the  Tree  of  Life. 


^»»i 


gen-tle 

wip-ed 

in-fant 

moth-er 

won-der 

a-lone 


LESSON 

hap-py 

kiss-ed 

bum-ing 

mem-o-ry 

hap-py 

lit-tle 


XIIIL 

an-gel 

watch-ed 

be-gan 

morn-ing 

heav-en 

im-age 


ex-pand 

spar-kle 

ho-ly 

pleas-ed 

al-ways 

chid-ing 


THB   OBPHAN^B    BSOOLLEOTIONS.     135 


THB  OBPHAN'S  BBOOCLBOTIONS  OF  A  MOTHBa 

1.  T  HAVE  no  mother  I  for  she  died 
1  When  I  was  yery  joung ; 

But  still  her  memory  round  my  hearty 
like  morning  mists,  has  dung. 

2.  They  tell  me  of  an  angel  form, 

That  watched  me  while  I  slept^ 
And  of  a  soft  and  gentle  hand 
That  Viped  the  tears  I  wept : 

3.  And  that  same  hand  that  held  my  own 

When  I  began  to  walk ; 
The  joy  that  sparkled  in  her  eyes 
When  first  I  tried  to  talk. 


136 


BBOOND    READER. 


4  They  say  the  mother^s  heart  is  pleased 
When  in&nt  charms  expand ; 
I  wonder  if  she  thinks  of  me 
In  that  bright,  happy  land. 

5.  I  know  8he*is  in  heaven  now, 

That  holy  place  of  rest ; 
For  she  was  always  good  to  me — 
The  good  alone  are  blest 

6.  I  remember,  too,  when  I  was  ill, 

She  kissed  my  burning  brow ; 
The  tear  that  fell  upon  my  cheek — 
I  think  I  feel  it  now. 

7.  And  I  have  got  some  little  books, 

She  taught  me  how  to  spell ; 
The  chiding  or  the  kiss  she  gave 
I  still  remember  well 

8.  And  then  she  used  to  kneel  with  me, 

And  teach  me  how  to  pray, 
And  raise  my  little  hands  to  Heaven, 
And  tell  me  what  to  say.  ^ 

9.  0  mother,  mother  I  in  my  heart 

Thy  image  still  shall  be. 
And  I  will  hope  in  heaven,  at  last, 
That  I  may  meet  with  thee. 


ST.   FBANOIS    DB    SALES. 


137 


LESSON  XLIV. 

dead-ly  con-suit  gov-ern-ed     at-tend-ants 

bish-op  dis-tance  Prot-est-ant    thou-sands 

ooun-try  mild-ness  re-deem-ed    ad-dress-ed 

m-lers  re-tire  as-sas-sins       a^mend-ment 

Cath-o-lio  at-tempt  ao-com-plish  prob-a-ble 


ST.  FBAirOIS   DB   SALES. 

THIS  holy  man  wa?.  bishop  of  Geneva^  in 
Switzerland.  In  his  day,  the  Catholics  were 
but  few  in  that  country,  and  the  rulers,  Hke 
most  of  the  people  whom  they  governed^  were 
Protestant,  and  much  opposed  to  the  spread  of 


138 


8B00KD    BBABEB. 


the  Catholic  faith.  But  St  Francis  cared  little 
for  the  opposition  of  men,  so  long  as  he  did 
the  will  of  God,  and  saved  the  souls  redeemed 
by  the  blood  of  Christ.  So  he  undertook  to 
convert  the  people  from  their  error;  and  bj 
his  preachkg,  and  still  more  by  his  good  ex- 
amplC)  many  thousands  were  brought  into  the 
Church. 

2:  Now  this  gave  great  offence  to  the  nobles 
and  great  men  of  the  nation,  and  they  said 
among  themselves,  that  if  St  Francis  were 
-allowed  to  go  on  in  that  way,  the  people  would 
all  become  Catholics  very  soon.  So  they  began 
to  consult  about  the  best  means  of  getting  rid 
of  the  great  Catholic,  bishop ;  and  they  deter- 
mined to  employ  two  wicked  men,  called  assas- 
sins— ^that  is,  my  dear  children,  men  who  will 
kill  any  one  for  'money — ^to  meet  St  Francis 
on  one  of  his  journeys,  and  put  him  to  death. 

3.  In  the  picture  you  see  the  two  ruffians 
advancing,  with  naked  swords,  to  meet  the 
holy  man  as  he  passed  through  a  dark  and 
lonely  wood.  But  God  would  not  permit  them 
to  accomplish  their  wicked  purpose.  When 
St  Francis  saw  them,  he  ordered  his  attendants 
to  retire  some  distance;  and  then  going  for- 


w 


mcis  were 


ward  alone,  be  addressed  the  aflsaflsina  with 
that  mildness  for  which  he  was  remarkable. 

4.  '*Yoa  must  take  me  for  some  one  else, 
my  good  friends,*'  said  he ;  "  for  I  am  sure  you 
would  not  attempt  to  kill  a  person  who  never 
injured  you." 

The  ruffians  were  so  astonished  by  the  pre- 
late's mild  yet  fearleas  demeanor,  and  the  ineffiv 
ble  sweetness  of  his  countenance,  that  they 
forgot  their  deadly  purpose  and  the  gold  which 
was  to  be  the  reward  of  their  crime ;  and,  Ml- 
ing  at  the  saint's  feet,  they  confessed  their  evil 
design,  and  with  tears  besought  his  pardon. 
St  Francis  was  but  too  happy  to  forgive  them, 
and,  after  a  short  exhortation  to  future  amend- 
ment, dismissed  them  with  his  blessing;  and 
summoning  his  attendante,  went  on  his  way 
rejoicing  in  the  probable  conversion  of  two 
wicked  men. 


■••^ 


mes-sen-ger 
de-scend-ing 
ex-pect-ed 
rap-tur-ous ' 
an-noon-ces 


lESSON  XIY. 

ap-pear-ed 

a-dom-ed 

mys-te-ry 

il-lu-mine 

slum-ber-ing 


cav-ems 

mor-tals 

her-ald 

sor-priie 

si-lence 


140 


SBCONl)    BEADEB. 


THE    MESSENGEB    ANOBL. 

1.  T^HE    Messenger    Angel,    descending    at 
A    '     night, 

Chased  silence  and  shadow,  with  mnsic  and 

light; 
The  shepherds  that  watched  upon  Bethle- 
hem's plain,  \ 
Heard  the.  Messenger  Angel,  and  this  was 

his  strain : 
**  Peace,",  he  said,  "  unto  mortals  and  glory 

to  Heav^en, — 
The  Expedited  of  old  to  mankind  has  been 

given ; 
Rejoice  at  the  splendors  that  herald  His 

birth. 
For  your  Saviour  to-day  has  appeared  upon 

earth. 

2.  *  Lol  the  fields  are  adorned  with  the  ver- 

dure of  May, 
And  the  chill  breast  of  winter  with^  roses 

is  gay; 
The  winds  that  made  war  o'er  the  &uce  of 

the  deep. 
Have  sought  their  dark  caverns;  and  lain 

down  to  sleQp. 


'Mid  the  feast  of  all  nature,  rise,  mortak)  arise ! 
And  the  mystery  view  with  a  holy  surprise ; 
Rejoice  at  the  glory  that  heralds  His  birth, 
For  yoar*Savioiir  to-day  has  appeared  upon 
earth. 

3.  *^  See,  the  wise  men  of  nations  advance  from 

a&r, 
O'er    the    pathway   i^^amined   by  Jacob's 

bright  stair ; 
To  Bethlehem's  grotto  their  treanires  they 

bring. 
And  adore  at  the  shrine  of  the  heavenly 

King. 
The  Gentiles  in  darkness  are  slumbering  no 

more. 
But  worship  the  God  whom  they  knew  not 

before, 
And  follow  the  light  which  announces  His 

birth, 
.  For  their  Saviour  to-day  has  appeared  upon 

eartL"         ,i 

4.  Yet  chanted  the  seraph,  when  rapturous 

strains, 
From  a  thousand  bright  angels,  awakened 
the  plains; 


142 


3SCOND    BSADSB. 


1 


Ethereal  splendor  encircled  the  throng 
That  caught  up  his  theme  and  re-echoed  his 

song; 
The  same  burden  was  swelled  by  each  heav- 
enly voice : 
'*The  Expected  is  come:   happy  mortals, 

rejoice  1 
Rejoice  at  the  glories  that  herald  His  birth. 
For  your  Saviour  to-day  has  appeared  upon 
earth." 


^>»i 


griev-ed 
be-yond 
as-sist 
pit-y 


LESSON  XLVI. 

sii-ver  preach, 

ref-uge  world 

par-ents  prfest 

help-less  built 

ST.  VINCENT   DB   PAUL. 


charge 
brought 
means 
part 


DID  any  of  my  little  readers  ever  hear  of  St. 
Vincent  de  Paul  ?  If  they  did  not,  then  I 
will  tell  them  something  about  him.  He  lived 
in  France,  a  great  and  beautiful  country  far 
away  beyond  the  Atlantic  Ocean.  When  St 
Vincent  lived,  some  two  hundred  years  ago, 
there  we.    a)^M  wicked  people  in  the  world. 


ri 


ST,  VIIfOENT   DE    PAUL. 


143 


-4^ 


OH  there  are  now,  and  it  grieved  the  good  saint 
very  mnch ;  for  he  loved  God  beyond  all  else, 
and  he  conld  not  bear  to  see  Him  outraged  by  sin. 


2.  Well,  where  there  is  mnch  sin  theie  is 
sure  to  be  much  misery,  and  ^ckness,  and  sor- 
row; and  so  it  was  in  the  days  when  St.  Vincent 
was  among  men.  Knowing  that  God  had  made 
all  men,  and  died  for  all,  the  bad  as  well  as  the 
good,  St  yincent  loved  them  for  God's  sake — 
as  all  good  Christians  ought  to  do— end  he 


144 


SBOOND    BXADBB. 


thought  he  would  try  some  means  to  relieve 
the  wretohedneas  which  he  saw  around  him. 

3.  Si  Vincent  was  not  rich;  but  he  was  a 
priesti  and  could  preach  to  the  rich  as  well  as 
the  poor.  So  he  began  to  preach  about  the 
sufferings  of  the  poor,  and  the  numberless  souls 
that  were  going  to  perdition  for  want  of  care, 
and  attention  on  the  part  of  those  who  oould 
assist  them  And  the  great  and  the  noble  and 
the  rich  who  heard  him  were  moved  with  pity, 
and  they  began  to  bring  gold  and  silver  to  St 
Vincent  for  the  relief  of  the  poor  and  the  pro- 
tection of  the  innocent  among  them. 

4  And  the  saint  "^aa  rejoiced  beyond  meas^ 
ure  that  God  had  given  him  the  means  of  doing 
so  much  good;  and  immediately  he  went  to 
work  and  built  hospitals  and  many  other  places 
of  refuge  for  the  poor  and  the  miserable,  where 
they  were  sheltered  and  taken  care  o£  Among 
other  things  that  St.  Vincent  did,  he  established 
a  hospital  for  poor  little  children  who  ^d  no 
parents.  And  he  went  abort  the  city,  night 
and  day,  picking  up  these  helpless  little  crea- 
tures, whom  he  brought  to  his  hospital,  and 
gave  them  in  charge  to  kind  ladies,  who  staid 
there  to  take  care  of  them. 


ST.   YlVOmVT   DS  ^AUL. 


146 


5.  Thus  70a  see  in  the  picture  St  Vincent 
going  to  his  hospital,  with  one  of  these  poor 
little  infants  in  his  arms.  I  suppose  its  parents 
had  gone  awaj  and  left  it  to  die  of  hunger,  for 
there  were  parents  iken  bad  enongh  to  do  that, 
and  so  there  are  stilL  Well  for  those  little 
ones  whom  St  Vincent  found;  for  they  were 
well  fed  and  clothed  in  his  great  hospital,  until 
they  were  able  to  take  care  of  themselves  and 
earn  their  living, — and  what  was  still  better 
than  that,  they  were  taught  to  know  and  love 
God,  and  to  serve  Him  better  than  their  parents 
had  done. 

6.  But  St  Vincent  de  Paul  did  more  even 
than  that,  for  the  suffbring  members  of  Christ^s 
body,  which  is  the  Churdi  of  God.  I  am  sure 
all  my  young  readers  have  heard  of  the  Sisters 
of  Charity.  Well,  before  St  Vincent's  time, 
there  were  no  Sisters  of  Charity.  It  was  he 
that  established  that  holy  order  of  nuns  for  the 
service  of  the  poor,  and  on  that  account  he  is 
called  their  father;  and  those  sweet,  kind, 
charitable  sisters  are  called  the  Daughters  of 
St  Vincent  de  Paul 

7.  Now,  let  my  dear  young  friends  who  read ' 
this  story,  think  of  it  well,  and  they  will  see 


146 


BBGOND    BBADBB. 


how  much  good  can  be  done  bj  one  person, 
even  if  he  be  poor  and  humble,  provided  he 
loves  God  and  has  compassion  on  (jod^s  suffer- 
ing creature&  What  man  was  ever  greater 
than  St  Vincent  de  Paul — ^the  friend  of  the 
poor,  the  father  of  orphans,  the  faithful  servant 

of  God?      •*  \ 

<■» 

lESSON  XLVII. 

ho-ly  whis-per  slum-ber  some-thing 
an-gel        kind-ly  flow-er  man-y 

nev-er       naugh-ty        keep-ing       look-ing 

THE   ANOBLS. 
MABT. 

1.  OISTER  Emma,  can  you  tell 
O  Where  the  holy  aagels  dwell? 
Is  it  very,  very  hijgk, 
Up  above  the  moon  and  sky  ? 


Holy  angek,  sister  dear, 
Dwell  witJ»  little  children  b«re, 
Every  Hk^t  and  every  day ; 
With  the  ^food  they  always  stay. 


THE    ANOSL8. 


147 


MART. 


3.  Yet  I  never  see  them  come, 
Never  know  when  they  go  home. 
Never  hear  them  speak  to  me — 
Sister  dear,  how  can  it  be  ? 


4  Mary,  did  you  never  hear 
Something  whisper  in  your  ear, 
**  Don't  be  naughty — ^never  cry — 
Crod  is  looking  from  the  sky !" 


KABT. 


5.  Yes,  indeed  i  and  it  must  be 
That's  the  way  they  talk  to  me ; 
Tlioi»  are  just  the  words  they  say, 
Many  times  in  every  day. 


148 


8E0OND    READER. 


JCMwULa 


6.  And  they  kindly  watch  us,  too, 
When  the  flowers  are  wet  with  dew ; 
When  we  are  tired  and  go  to  sleep^ 
Angels  then  our  slumbers  keep. 

7.  Every  night  and  every  day, 
When  we  work  and  when  we  play, 
God^s  good  angels  watch  iis  still, 
Keeping  tis  firom  every  ilL 

8.  When  we're  good,  they  are  glad ; 
When  we*re  naughty,  they  are  sad ; 
Should  we  very  wicked  grow. 
Then  away  from  us  they  go. 


MART. 


9.  Oh !  I  would  not  have  them  go, 
I  do  love  the  angels  so ; 
I  will  never  naughty  be. 
So  they'll  always  stay  with  me. 


^■» 


de-cay-ing 
gath-er-ed 
bur-i-ed 
broth-ers 


lESSON  XLVIII. 

hun-dred  ex-plain 

maa-ter  false-ly 

charg-ed  pass-ed 

press-ed  feign-ed 


cloth-ed 
wick-ed 
mer-chants 
pris-on 


JOSEPH   AKD   HI8   BBBTHBEV. 

AND  the  days  of  Abraham's  life  were  a  hun- 
dred and  seventy-five  years.  And  decay- 
ing, he  died  in  a  good  old  age;  and  having 
lived  a  long  time  and  being  full  of  days,  he 
was  gathered  to  his  people.  And  Isaac  and 
Ismael,  his  sons,  buried  him  with  Sara  his  wife, 
in  the  double  cave  which  is  over  against  Mam- 
bre,  and  which  he  bought  of  the  children  of 
HetL 

2.  And  after  his  death,  God  blessed  Isaac 
his  son,  who  dwelt  by  the  well  of  the  "  Living 
and  the  Seeing." 

Isaac  was  threescore  years  old  when  his  tyin 


160 


SECOND    READSB. 


Bona,  Esau  and  Jacob,  were  born.  Esaa  grew 
up,  and  became  a  skilful  hunter;  but  Jacob 
was  a  plain  man,  and  dwelt  in  tentpw 

3.  Of  the.  twelve  sons  of  Jacob,  Joseph  was 
dearer  to  him  than  any  of  the  rest  His  broth- 
ers were  grieved  at  it,  and  they  hated  him. 
One  day  their  father  sent  him  to  them  whei^ 
they  were  with  their  flocks  in  the  field. 

\.  When  he  came  to  them,  they  said,  "Let  us 
kill  hint"  But  one  of  them,  by  name  Reuben, 
said,  "  Do  not  take  his  life  from  him,  nor  shed 
his  blood,  but  cast  him  into  this  pit**  They 
then  stripped  him  of  his  coat,  and  cast  him  into 
the  pit,  or  well  that  was  dry. 

5.  And  when  some  merchants  passed  by  that 
way,  his  brothers  drew  him  out  of  the  well,  and 
they  sold  him  to  them.  They  brought  him  into 
Egypt,  and  there  they  sold  him  to  a  prince,  to 
be  his  slave. 

6.  Joseph  was  a  man  that  in  all  things  did  so 
well,  that  his  master  made  him  dwell  in  the 
house,  and  he  was  in  great  favor  with  him ;  so 
far,  that  he  was  charged  with  the  care  of  all 
things,  and  he  ruled  in  the  house. 

7.  When  he  had  been  there  a  while,  his  mas- 
ter's wife  wished  and  pressed  him  to  do  a  great 


rW 


JOSEPH   AND    HIS    BBETHBXK.        151 


crime ;  bat  Joseph  was  good,  and  feared  Gk>d, 
and  he  would  by  no  means  comvent  to  do  it 
**How  can  1  commit  a  wicked  thing/*  said  he, 
^*and  sin  against  my  God?  Na*'  He  then 
rushed  from  her. 

8;  She  then  charged  him  falselj  with  the 
crime,  and  he  was  cast  into  prison.  When  he  had 
been  there  two  ye?r  the  king  sent  for  him  to 
explain  him  his  dre       .  Joseph  explained  them. 

9.  Then  the  king  took  his  ring  from  his  own 
hand,  and  gave  it  into  the  hand  of  Joseph.  He 
clothed  him  with  a  silk  robe,  and  put  a  chain 
of  gold  about  his  neck.  He  made  all  bow  the 
knee  to  him,  and  told  them  he  was  to  rule  the 
whole  land  of  Egjrpt  t 

10.  Not  long  after,  there  was  a  dearth,  or  a 
great  want  of  com.  And  Joseph  had  the  care 
of  all  the  com.  Jacob,  the  father  of  Joseph, 
then  sent  his  brothers  to  buy  corn  of  him. 

11.  At  first  they  did  not  know  Joseph ;  an  I 
though  he  knew  them,  yet  he  feigned  as  if  he 
did  not  know  them,  and  he  dealt  with  them 
as  if  they  were  spiea  This  he  did  to  bring 
them,  by  degrees,  to  a  sense  of  their  fault,  when, 
through  envy,  they  sold  him ;  yet  did  Joseph 
love  them. 


i 


152 


SECOND    READBR. 


12.  He  soon  made  himself  known  to  them. 
He  wept  tlirough  joy,  kissed  them,  and  forgave 
them.  He  then  sent  for  his  old  father,  who 
came  to  him.  Joseph  took  care  of  him  and  his 
brothera  They  lived  in  those  parts,  and  when 
Jacob  was  dead,  Joseph  bitried  him  in  the  place 
where  he  had  desired  to  be  bnried.  \ 


N^ 


LESSON  XLIX. 


green 
choose 
T^orld 
fade 


means 
sake 
choice 
which 


moss-y 
Ghris-tian 
Ed-die 
fel-low 


sor-row 
an-ger 
pa-tience 
wood-en 


THE  OBOSS  AKD  THB  VLOWSB. 

WHAT  is  little  Eddie  thinking  of^  as  he  sits 
on  that  green,  mossy  bank,  with  the  ciross 
in  one  hand  and  a  pretty  flower  in  the  other  ? 

2.  I  suppose  you  do  not  know,  so  I  will  tell 
you.  Eddie  is  thinking  of  what  his  dear  mother 
told  him  the  other  day.  She  said  every  Chris- 
tian had  to  choose  between  the  fleeting  pleas- 
ures of  this  world,  which  fade  and  die  away 
like  the  flowers  of  the  field,  and  the  cross  of 
our  Lord,  which  means  patience  in  snfifering 


^ 


THB    GB06S    AND    THE    FLOWER.       153 


and  denying  one^s  self  what  they  like,   for 
Christ'd  dear  ixJke. 

3.  So  little  Eddie  has  palled  a  flower ;  and 
he  is  looking  at  it,  and  at  the  wooden  cross  in 
his  other  hand,  and  he  is  thinking — thinking  of 
the  choice  wMch  his  mother  said  he  most  make. 


4  I  wonder  which  he  will  choose.  Dear 
little  fellow!  he  is  young  to  make  such  a  choice, 
bat  not  too  yoang.  Even  little  boyB  like  Eddie, 
and  little  girls  too,  can  take  the  cross  and  bear 


f 


154 


8E00KD   BSADBB. 


it  after  Christ  That  eans  that  they  can  bear 
pain  and  sorrow  with  patience,  and  never  give 
give  waj  to  anger.  That  is  the  waj  to  bear 
the  cross,  and  I  think  little  Eddie  looka  as  if 
he  would  wish  to  do  it 


^•» 


in-no-cfence 
spe-cial 
ten-der-ness 
o-bli-ging 


LESSON,  L 

ex-am-ple 
at-ten-tion 
fa-vor-ite 
in-ter-conrse 


in-creas-ed 
de-vo-tion 
pre-par-ing 
re-dou-bled 


N 


ST.   ALOTSITTS. 

0  life  can  be  more  interesting  than  that  of 
the  amiable  Saint  Aloysius.  His  youth, 
his  innocence,  and  purity  of  heart  commend 
him  in  a  special  manner  to  the  young.  He  is 
at  once  their  model  and  their  patron. 

2.  This  illustrious  Saint  was  born  in  the  cas- 
tle of  Gastiglione,  in  Italy,  on  the  9th  day  of 
March,  1568.  The  first  words  he  was  taught 
by  his  pious  mother,  so  soon  as  he  was  able  to 
speak,  were  the  sweet  names  of  Jesus  and  Mary, 
and  the  first  action,  that  of  making  the  sign  of 
the  cross. 


3.  Aloysins,  even  in  his  infancy,  shoired  a 
great  tenderness  for  the  poor;  and  so  great 
was  his  devotion,  that  he  would  frequently 
hide  himself  iu  some  comer,  and  after  a  lon^ 
search  he  would  .be  found  at  his  prajera 


4.  What  an  ez&mple.is^this  for  the  young, 
and  what  a  reproach  his  conduct  is  to  those 
children  who  never  tiiink  of  prayer ;  who  think 
nothing  of  morning  and  evening  prayers,  or  si^^ 
them  without  attention,  as  if  it  were  some  hur- 
ried  task  they  had  to  perform,  ine^tead  of  a 
pleasing  duty  to  God. 

5.  His  father  being  general  of  the  army  in 


166 


BBCOND    RBADBB. 


Lombardj,  had  intended  to  bring  np  Aloysins 
to  the  profession  of  arms;  and,  in  order  to  give 
him  an  inclination  to  that  state,  gave  him  little 
guns  and  other  warlike  weapons.  He  used  to 
take  him  with  him  to  see  the  soldiers  going 
through  their  exercises,  and  was  much  pleased 
to  see  him  with  a  little  pike  in  his  hand,  walk- 
ing before  the  ranka 

6.  The  child  was  a  great  &vorite  with  the 
officers;  and  from  his  frequent  intercourse  with 
them,  he  had  learned  some  unbecoming  words, 
the  meaning  of  which  he  was  not  tiien  old 
enough  to  know.  His  moUier  hearing  him  use 
them,  chided  him  for  it,  and  told  him  how 
offensive  it  was  to  God  to  BW6&r  or  use  unbe- 
coming lang^age.   . 

7.  From  that  moment  Aloysius  could  never 
bear  to  be  in  the  company  of  those  who  would 
profane  the  name  of  God,  or  use  other  improp- 
er language.  The'  offence  he  had  committed, 
though  excusable  on  account  of  his  age,  was  to 
him  during  his  whole  life  a  subject  of  deep  and 
bitter  regret 

8.  With  his  age  his  fervor  and  piety  increased. 
When  he  was  only  seven  years  old,  he  began  to 
recite  every  day  the  office  of  Our  Lady,  the 


L 


ST.   AL0TSIU8. 


167 


seven  penitential  psalms,  and  other  prayen. 
Abont  this  time  he  was  taken  sick  of  an  agne, 
from  which* he  did  not  recover  for  nearly 
eighteen  months.  Dnring  his  sickness,  he  edi- 
fied every  one  that  came  near  him  bj  his  piety, 
and  the  patience  with  which  he  bore  it ;  and 
during  the  whole  time  he  never  omitted  the 
daily  prayers  which  he  had  imposed  on  liimself 

9.  When  he  was  about  eight  years  of  age,  he 
was  sent,  with  his  younger  brother,  to  the 
Court  of  the  Grand  Dnht  of  Tuscany,  to  study 
the  Latin  and  Tuscan  languages,  and  other 
branches  suitable  to  his  rank.  ^Aloysius  applied 
himself  to  his  studies  Urith  the  utmqst  assiduity, 
o£fering  them  to  God,  and  placing  them  under 
the  protection  of  the  Blessed  Virgin. 

10.  His  progress  in  his  studies  was  great, 
but  his  progress  in  virtue  was  still  greater. 
His  devotion  to  the  amiable  Mother  of  God 
was  tender  and  sincere.  He  would  turn  to  her 
on  all  occasions,  as  his  queen  and  patroness; 
chant  her  praises,  and  invoke  her  aid.  Never 
was  he  tired  of  speaking  of  her  great  preroga- 
tives, and  nothing  pleased  him  more  than  to 
read  those  books  which  treated  of  her  virtues. 

11.  But  nothing  could  exceed  the  mildne» 


168 


eXCOKO    BXADEB. 


of  his  disposition,  and  the  kindness  and  affiibil- 
ity  which  he,  at  all  times,  manifested  to  his 
brother  and  companions.  He  was  to  them 
always  obliging  and  condescending;  even  to 
the  servants  he  never  spoke  bj  'way  of  com- 
mand. 

12.  Aloysius  and  his  brother  had  remainedi 
about  two  years  at  Florence,  when  their  father 
reihoved  with  them  to  Mantua.  Here  he  con- 
tinued not  only  to  practise  every  virtue,  but  to 
disengage  himself  more  and  more  from  the  ties 
of  the  world.  He  seldom  went  abroad,  and 
spent  much  of  his  time  in  reading  the  lives  of 
the  Saints,  and  other  books  of  piety  and  devo- 
tion. He  sometimes  passed  whole  days  in 
prayer  and  meditation. 

13.  He  frequently  visited  the  schools  of  the 
Christian  doctrine,  encouraged  other  boys,  es- 
pecially the  poor,  to  study  their  cateclusm,  and 
often  instructed  them  hinitelf  He  was  then  in 
his  twelfth  year,  and  was  preparing  to  make 
his  first  communion.  His  devotion  to  the 
Holy  Sacrament  had  always  been  great,  but 
now  it  was  redoubled.  He  heard  mass  as 
often  as  possible,  and  frequently,  after  the  con- 
secration, melted  into  tear& 


f-  v--' 


14.  It  was  his  greatest  delight  to  pm  hoon 
in  contemplation  before  the  altty.  fM  morti- 
fications to  which  he  subjected  himaelf  were 
extraordinary,  especially  in  one  of  his  tender 
years.  He  fasted  three  days  in  the  week,  and 
on  Fridays  tasted  nothing  but  bread  and  water; 
and  on  other  days  his  meals  were  so  slender 
that  his  life  seemed  almost  a  miracle. 

15.  He  secreily  placed  a  board  in  his  bed  to 
rest  on  in  the  night,  and  rose  at  midnight  to 
pray,  even  in  the  winter.  He  spent  an  hour 
after  rising,  and  two  hours  before  going  to  bed, 
in  prayer. 

16.  Though  these  extraordinary  acts  of  pen- 
ance and  devotion  are  more  than  we  can  expect 
from  our  young  readers,  still  they  should  try, 
even  in  their  short  prayers,  to  imitate  the  piety 
of  the  youthful  Aloysiua  • 

17.  They  can  imitate  that  mildness  of  dispo- 
sition for  which  he  was  always  so  remarkable ; 
and  that  love  and  affection  which  he  always 
showed  to  his  parents,  and  that  ready  obedience 
to  their  demands,  and  to  those  of  his  superiors, 
which  he  always  rendered  with  so  much  willing- 
ness. Blessed  St  Aloysius !  pray  for  the  youth 
of  America  that  they  may  imitate  thy  virtues ! 


m<      'hi 


160 


SECOND    READER. 


oen-tr6 

pleas-ore 

pleaa-ant 

hum-blj 

watch-ful 


.LESSON  LI. 

throng  dwelt  bath 

fiuth-ful        bow  dim 

for-sook        tear  call 

throne  soul  glare 

way-ward     grow  nigh 


A   KIOHT  PBATBB. 


own 

found 

joys 

wilt 

there 


1.  pREATGod!  I  call  upon  thy  name, 
^  And  bow  before  thy  throne, 
^' Aniid  the  silent  shades  of  night, 
,^      Unwatcheid,  unseen,  alone! 


THE    CROSS    BY   THE   WAY-SIDS.      161 


How  oft,  amidst  the  glare  of  day, 
When  pleasure's  throng  was  nigh^ 

I  have  forgotten  that  1  moved 
Beneath  thy  watchful  eye ! 

2.  Mine  eyes  haye  dwelt  on  vanities 

Thy  children  should  not  see ; 
My  feet  forsook  the  pleasant  paths 

That  lead  to  Heaven,  to  Thee. 
I  kneel  and  hnmbly  own  my  sin, 

With  many  a  tear  and  prayer ; 
My  soul  hath  dwelt  'mid  earthly  joys. 

And  found  no  pleasure  ih&ce. 


Gath-0-lic 
beau-ti-ful 
re-demp-tion 
wan-der-ed 


LESSON  III. 

con-fi-deaoe 
eam-est-ly 
pro-tec-tion 
ev-i-dence 


pros-per-ous 
con-duct-ed 
be-lov-ed 
in-di-CHt-ed 


THE    GROSS    BT   THE    WAY-SIDE. 

AMONG  the  most  beautiful  customs  which 
prevail  in  Catholic  countries,  none  is  more 
striking,  or  gives  greater  evidence  of  the  strong 
faith  of  the  inhabitants,  than  that  of  erecting 
crosses  by  the  way-side. 


f-^r 


Kt2 


I 


BBADBR. 


%  Along  the  public  roads  and  mountain 
"paflsei  the  cross  is  planted,  everywhere  remind- 
ing man  of  the  great  event  of  his  redemption. 


3.  When  travellers  pdss  hj  these  crosses, 
they  raise  the  hat,  stand,  or  kneel  before  them, 
and  offer  up  a  short  prayer  that  they  may  be 
shielded  from  danger  in  their  journey,  or  that 
the  business  on  which  they  are  travelling  may 
be  pros|>erou& 

4  Sometimes  when  persons  have  lost  their 
way,  the  meeting  with  the  cross  inspires  them 
with  hope  and  confidence,  because  they  know 


THB   0BO88   BT  THB  WAT-BIDX.      163 


ountain 
remind- 
iption. 


crosses, 
>e  them, 
may  br 
or  that 
ng  may 

N3t  their 
es  them 
sy  know 


it  indicates  a  road  which  will  condnat  them  to 
some  human  habitation. 

5.  We  are  told  that  two  little  ^Is  once  lost 
their  way  in  a  thick  wood,  and  wandered 
about  for  hours  without  knowing  how  to  find 
their  way  out  At  length  they  came  to  ah 
open  space,  where  they  found  a  cross  standing. 

6.  With  joyful  hearts  they  threw  themselves 
upon  their  knees;  and  clasping  their  hands, 
they  earnestly  besought  our  dear  Lord  to  direct 
their  steps,  that  they  might  find  their  way  home. 
Then,  after  placing  themselvesx under  the  pro- 
tection of  their  beloved  Mother,,  the  Blessed 
Virgin,  they  arose,  and  takings  an  old  road 
which  seemed  to  be  indicated  by  the  cross, 
they  soon  arrived  at  the  house  of  a  friend,  who 
conducted  them  to  the  home  of  their  parents. 


bat-tie 

crea-ture 

child-like 

lon-ger 

thir-teen 

reach-ed 


LESSON  LIII. 

beau-ti-ful 

he-ro-ic 

un-con-sciou8 

per-ish-ed 

ex-plo-sion 

ad-mi-ral 


faith-ful 

frag-ment 

stream-ed 

wreath-ing 

pen-non 

chief-tain 


164 


BSOOND   KEADBB. 


r»if 


OASABIAlrOA. 

Tottng  <kaMaatetL,  %  boy  about  thirteen'  yetf*  :old,  flon  to  the  Ad- 
mlnJ  of  the  Orient,  remained  at  his  post  (In  the  battle  of  the 
Nile)  after  the  ship  had  taken  fire,  and  all  the  guns  had  been 
abandoned,  and  perished  in  the  explosion  of  the  vessel,  when  the 
flames  had  reached  the  powder. 

1.  rpHE  boy  stood  on  the  burning  deck,        \ 
A  Whence  all  but  he  had  fled; 

The  flame  that  lit  the  battle's  wreck 
Shone  round  him  o'er  the  dead. 

2.  Yet  beantiful  and  bright  he  stood, 

As  bom  to  role  the  storm ; 
A  creature  of  heroic  blood, 
A  proud,  though  childlike,  form. 

3.  The- fla^ite  rolled  on^-^he  would  not  go 

Withcitft  his  fiitherM  word ; 
That  father,  faint  in  death  below, 
His  voice  no  longer  heard. 

4.  He  called  aloud — "  Say,  father,  say. 

If  yet  my  task  is  done  ?" 
He  knew  not  that  the  chieftain  lay 
Unconscious  of  his  son. 

6.  ** Speak,  father!**  once  again  he  ci-ied^ 
"  If  I  may  yet  be  gone !" 


y- 


0A8ABXAN0A. 


165 


And  but  the  booming  shots  repfied, 
And  fast  the  flames  rolled  on. 

6L  Upon  his  brow  he  felt  their  breath. 
And  in  hid  waving  hair, 
And  looked,  from  that  lone  post,  to  death. 
In  still,  yet  brave  despair ; 

V.  And  shonted  but  once  *nore  aloud — 
"  My  father  I  must  I  stay  ?" 
While   o^er   him   fast,   through   sail   and 
shroud, 
The  wreathing  fires  made  way. 

8.  They  wrapped  the  ship  in  splendor  wild, 
T^ey  caught  the  flag  oi^high. 
And  streamed  above  the  gallant  child. 
Like  banners  in  the  dty. 

^.  There  came  a  burst  of  thunder  sound — 
The  boy— oh  I  where  was  he  ? 
Ask  of  the  winds  that  far  around 
With  fragnients  strewed  the  sea  ;-t- 

10.  With  mast,  and  helm,  and  pennon  fair, 
That  well  had  borne  their  part — 
But  the  noblest  thing  that  perished  there 
Was  that  young,  faithful  heart 


166 


BEOOND    Ri'ADEB. 


LESSON  LIV. 

whom       break        harp         start  voice 

teach        lent  host         came  lives 

lisp  death        {oin  thought  found 

blue  reigns       slept        once  while, 


Philip's  death. 

LITTLE  Edith  had  a  baby  brother,  named 
Philip,  whom  she  loved  very  dearly;  and 
it  was  her  greatest  pleasure  to  play  with  him, 
and  teach  him  to  walk  and  to  lisp  the  holy 
names  of  Jesus  and  Mart.  He  was  a  gentle, 
playful  child,  with  soft  blue  eyes  and  golden 
hair ;  and  Edith  thought  there  never  was  such 


ii'iiir 


PHILIP'S    DEATH, 


167 


another  baby  brother,  so  pretty,  so  loying,  and 
so  winning  in  all  his  little  ways. 

2.  But,  »lasl  the  time  came  when  Philip 
could  play  no  more,  but  lay  sick  and  moaning 
on  his  mother^s  knee  or  in  his  tiny  crib. 
And  people  told  Edith  that  she  was  going  to 
lose  her  darling  brother;  and  she  saw  her 
mother  looking  very  sorrowM;  and  then  she 
stole  away  into  a  dark,  lonely  comer,  and  cried 
as  if  her  little  heart  would  break. 

3.  And  crying  thus,  she  fell  asleep ;  and  all 
at  once  she  heard  a  voice  like  sweet  music, 
sajdng:  "Edith,  why  do  you  weep?  I  am 
Philip's  angel,  and  I  wish  to  comfort  you.  It 
was  God  who  gave  you  that  little  brother ;  He 
did  but  lend  him  to  you  and  your  dear  parents : 
now  He  is  going  to  take  him  home ;  and  when 
the  moment  of  his  death  is  come,  his  good 
Father  will  send  me  and  a  company  of  many 
more  angels  to  carry  him  up  to  heaven,  where, 
harp  in  hand,  he  will  sing  with  us  the  praises 
of  Him  who  lives  and  reigns  forever. 

4.  "  Weep  no  more,  then,  Edith,  but  rejoice 
•as  we  do  when  the  spotless  lambs  whom  our 
Lord  loves  are  gathered  to  His  bo60|n.  Joy, 
Edith,  joy  I~joy,  E:L:th,  joy  I" 


168 


BSOOND    BEADEB. 


il 


5.  Louder  rose  the  angelic  choras,  aiid  it 
8^^med  to  the  little  girl  that  the  house  vas  fall 
of  heaveolj  spirits.  She  awoke  with  a  start, 
and  found  that  her  little  brother  Philip  had 
died  whOe  jshe  slept  He  had  gone  to  join  the 
choms  abova 


Dee 
doth 

how 


LESSON  LY. 

was  ac-count 

neat  harm-less 

hard  mis-chief 


gath-er 

im-prove 

hon-ey 


TBB   BUBT  BBS. 


1.  TTOW  doth  the  little  busy  bee 
AA  Improve  each  shining  hour, 
And  gather  honey  all  the  day 
Pron  every  opening  flower. 


LETTBB  TO  THK  INFANT  JX8V8.    169 


Uld   it 

as  full 

start, 

had 

in  the 


'i 


\ 


i-er 

>rove 

ey 


t 


X  lio'if  skilfully  she  builds  her  cell, 
How  neat  she  spreads  the  wax\ 
And  labors  hard  to  store  it  well 
With  the  sweet  food  she  makea 

3.  Iii  works  of  labor  or  of  ski]]^ 

I  would  be  hnsj  too ; 
¥or  Satan  finds  some  miadiief  still 
For  idle  hands  to  da 

4.  In  books,  or  work,  or  harmless  play, 

Let  my  first  yelurs  be  passed, 
That  I  may  give,  for  every  day. 
Some  good  aooonnt  at  last 


^»»i 


nar-row 

gar-ret 

sto-ries 


LISSON  LYI. 

mn-M  pov-er-ty 
WBUHom  Ii07-er-ed 
vfiHeof 


bor-row-ed 

ea-si-ly 

glit-ter-ing 


7E8US. 


LXTTM    t^  f  9 

IN  a  narrow  street  d#^  great  <aty  far  over  the 
sea,  there  lived  a  poor  author.  He  had  a 
wife  and  four  little  boys,  one  of  them  a  very 
little  baby  in  the  cradle.  They  had  but  one 
room,  and  that,  not  very  large,  was  in  a  garret 
four  stories  from  the  ground. 


u. 


170 


BBOOND    BXADSB. 


2.  It  was  in  the  cold  winter  time,  and  they 
were  without  wood,  and  almost  without  bread; 
for  the  men  who  owed  the  fkiher,  had  not  yet 
paid  him  the  money  for  his  last  story.  Though 
these  people  were  so  fetj  poor,  they  tried 
hard  to  be  cheerful ;  for  CJiristmas  was  just  at 
hand,  and  they  thought  of  the  manger  whe^e 
the  infant  Saviour  lay,  and  they  would  not 
murmur  at  their  poverty. 


V       JS 


3.  They  knew  that  the  highest  angels  came 
down  from  heaven,  and  hovered  over  a  spot 
more  cold  and  cheerless  than  their  home  ootdd 
ba  They  knew  that  the  birth  of  the  in&nt 
Jesus  had  made  honest  poverty  sacred,  and  so 


LSTTSB   TO   THB   INFANT   JSBUS.     171 


Tl 


thej  stroye  to  keep  themselTes  contented  and 
happy. 

4.  The  poor  aathor  had  borrowed  an  armful 
of  wood,  and  was  just  trying  to  hush  the  noise 
of  the  children,  so  that  he  could  write,  when 
the  eldest  boy  cried  out:  "0  father!  when 
shall  we  write  our  letter  to  the  child  Jesus  ?'* 

"  Well  said,  my  boy,"  returned  the  >father, 
with  a  smile ;  ^*  your  question  is  just  in  season. 
But  what  are  you  gping  to  say  in  the  letter  ?" 

"Why,  to  bp^re,  we  mean  to  ask  some 
pretty  gifl^sj^r  Christmas  eve," 

"  But,^aul,  your  little  brothers  cannot  write." 

"  Oh,  BO  matter;  for  thai,  f&ih^ ;  I  will  write 
the  letter  for  tbem^  and  I  will  put  each  one^s 
name  at  the  bottom." 

5.  Th^e '  was  stiU  another  di^culty.  How 
was  the  lett^  to  be  s<B»t?  " Oh!  that  is  easily 
managed,"  said  Baul  *^ You. have  oflen  told 
me,  father,  that  the  Boly  Child  wiU  fly  this 
very  evening,  on  his  glittering  wings  of  green 
and  gold,  over  the  roofs  of  the  houses,  so  as  to 
hear  how  the  children  speak  to  each  other  and 
to  their  parents.  Well,  when  we  have  our  let- 
ter writt^sn,  we  can  tlirow  it  out  of  the  trap- 
door in  the  roof^  and  th^a  the  inBmt  Jesus 


>'^^; 


173 


fiBOOKD    BKADBB. 


win  be  snre  to  find  it**    This  was  agreed  to 
by  all 

6.  So  the  letter  was  written,  containing  a 
liRt  of  all  the  pretty  things  which  eaoh  of  the 
children  had  a  mind  to  ask ;  and  when  it  was 
finished,  Paul  signed  it  for  himself  and  his 
brothers,  then  sealed  it,  and  threw  it  out  on  the 
roof,  and  the  wind  soon  carried  it  out  of  sight 

7.  Hour  after  hour  passed  away,  and  there 
was  uo  answer  to  the  important  letter.  The 
fire  was  dying  out,  the  poor  supper  had  been 
eaten,  and  the  children  sat  shiTering  together, 
watching  and  waiting,  and  beginning  to  feel 
quite  disappointed.  They  did  not  like  to  say 
so,  but  they  all  feared  that  the  Holy  Infant  had 
forgotten  them. 

8.  All  at  once  they  heard  a  rustling  as  of 
silk,  and  a  soft  voice  said,  "Good  evening!" 
There  was  a  motion  about  the  table — some- 
thing like  the  gleam  of  evening  stars  was  visi- 
ble. All  looked  up  in  surprise,  and  there  on 
the  table  was  a  pretty  Christmas-tree,  in  the 
midst  of  a  beautiful  moss  garden ;  many  wax- 
lights  burned  on  the  tree,  and  behind  it  stood 
the  figure  of  an  unknown  lady,  with  bright  and 
smiling  eyes.     She  had  just  lit  the  tapers. 


I  i 


ir 


LETTER    TO    THE    INFANT   JE8U8.     173 


9.  "  Hurrah !"  screamed  the  boys,  while  their 
parents  looked  on  in  silent  amazement  Down 
on  the  table  fell  with  a  rattle  three  little  swords, 
as  many  guns,  and  a  like  aumber  of  pretty 
books,  bound  in  green  and  f^old ;  while  on  the 
floor  stood  three  little  wooden  horses,  with  the 
prettiest  saddles  and  bridles  ever  seen.  There 
was  also  a  nice  little  ring  of  bells  for  the  baby. 
But  the  best  of  all  was  a  hundred-dollar  bill, 
which  hung  on  the  Christmas-tree. 

10.  Now  you  may  imagine,  children,  the  joy 
which  filled  the  hearts  of  those  poor  people, 
and  how  thankful  they  were  to  the  giver  of 
those  good  thinga  You  understand,  I  am  sure, 
how  the  matter  was.  That  beautiful  lady,  who 
was  very  rich,  had  happened  to  find  the  chil- 
dren's  letter,  cmd  so  she  thought  she  would  do 
for  them  what  she  knew  would  be  pleasing  to 
the  Holy  Child  of  Bethlehem. 


*»■» 


in-clud-ed 
sen-ti-ment 
dil-i-gent-ly 
ju8-ti-fy-ing 


LESSON  LVIL 

in-struct-ors  re-main-der 

reiceiv-ing  cor-re-spond-ence 

ex-act-ness  in-con-sid-er-ate 

Au-re-li-us  rep-ri-mands 


■^ 


174 


SECOND    READER. 


RESPECT   ATXTj    AFFECTION    DUB    FROK 
PUPILS    TO    THEIR   TEACHERS. 

AN  ancient  aathor  says  that  he  has  included 
almost  all  the  datj  of  scholars  in  this  one 
piece  of  advice  which  he  gives  them : — ^to  love 
those  who  instruct  them,  as  they  love  the  sci- 
^ences  which  they  study;  and  to  look  upon 
them  as  fathers,  from  whom  they  derive  not 
the  life  of  the  body,  but  that  instruction  which 
is  in  a  manner  the  life  of  the  soul.  This  senti- 
ment of  affection  and  respect  disposes  them  to 
apply  diligently  during  the  time  of  their  studies; 
and  preserves  in  their  minds,  during  the  remain- 
der of  life,  a  tender  gratitude  towards  their 
instructors.  It  seems  to  include  a  great  part 
of  what  is  to  be  expected  from  them. '   . 

2.  Docility,  which  consists  in  readily  receiv- 
ing instructions,  and  reducing  them  to  practice, 
is  properly  the  virtue  of  scholars,  as  that  of 
masters  is  to  teach  welL  As  it  is  not  Sufficient 
for  a  laborer  to  sow  the  seed,  unless  the  earth, 
after  having  opened  its  bosom  to  receive  it, 
warms  and  moistens  it ;  so  the  whole  fruit  of 
instruction  depends  upon  a  good  correspond- 
ence between  masters  and  scholars. 


severe  ( 


RESPECT   AWD   AFFECTION,    ETC.      175 

3.  Gratitude  towards  those  who  have  faith- 
fully labored  in  our  education,  is  an  essential 
virtue,  and  the  mark  of  a  good  heart.  "Of 
those  who  have  been  carefully  instructed,  who 
is  there,*'  says  Cicero,  "that  is  not  delighted 
>vith  the  sight,  and  even  the  remembrance  of 
his  preceptors,  and  the  very  place  where  he 
was  educated  ?" 

4.  Seneca  exhorte  joong  men  to  preserve 
always  a  great  rapoct  fof-  their  masters,  to 
whose  care  they  ttie  indebted  for  the  amend- 
ment of  their  fiit^  and  for  having  imbibed 
sentiments  of  honor*  (||c[  probity.  Their  exact- 
ness and  severiij  aam^noB  displease,  at  an 
age  when  we  are  If0t  in  a  condition  to  judge  of 
the  obligations  we  owe  theni;  biit  whi^n  years 
have  ripened  our  understanding  and  judgment, 
we  discern  that  admonitions,  reprimands,  and  a 
severe  exactness  in  restraining  the  passions  of 
an  imprudent  and  inconsiderate  age,  far  from 
justifying  dislike,  demand  our  esteem  and  love. 

5.  Marcus  Aurelius,  one  of  the  wisest  and 
most  illnstrious  emperors  that  Rome  ever  had, 
thanked  Heaven  for  two  things  especially; — for 
having  had  excellent  tutors  himself,  and  for 
having  found  the  like  blessing  for  his  children. 


£_Mti 


176 


SECOND    READER. 


smoe 
watch 
strength 
waste 


LESSON  LVIII. 


sum 
grace 
sins 
known 


re-movo 
dark-neds 
par-don 
bod-y 


oom-forts 
mak-er 
morn-ing 
cheer-fill 


^"^tv. 


'^^ 


i..Sfe^^^; 


AK   BYBKIKO   HTMIT. 

1.  A  ND  now  another  day  is  gone, 
■^  VM  sing  my  Maker's  praise ; 

My  comforts  every  hour  make  known 
His  providence  and  grace. 

2.  But  how  my  childhood  runs  to  waste  I 

My  sins,  how  great  their  sum ! 

Lord  I  give  me  pardon  for  the  past 

And  strength  for  days  to  come. 


3.  I  lay  my  body  down  to  sleep ; 
Let  angels  guard  my  head, 
And  through  the  hours  of  darkness  keep 
Their  watch  around  my  be'd. 

4  With  cheerful  heart  I  close  my  eyes, 
Since  God  will  hot  remove ; 
And  in  the  morning  let  me  rise, 
Rejoicing  in  His  love. 


i^«» 


IBSSON  IIX. 

dis-tin-guish-ed  su-per-flu-i-ties  lib-er-al-ly 

com-pas-sion  so-li-ci-ta-tion  im-prove-ment 

en-cour-a-ges  <>d-t<^n-ta-tion  em-bar-rass-ed 

be-nev-o-lence  in-ge-nu-i-ty  con-tent-ment 

VIRTUE  AND  HAPPINESS  EQUALLY  ATTAIN- 
AI«LE  BY  THE   BIOH  AND   THE   POOR. 

THE  man  to  whom  God  has  given  riches,  and 
blessed  with  a  mind  to  employ  them  right, 
is  peculiarly  favored  and  highly  distinguished. 
He  looks  on  his  wealth  with  pleasure,  because 
it  affordft  him  the  means  to  do  good.  He  pro- 
tects the  poor  that  are  injured ;  he  suffers  not 
the  mighty  to  ogress  the  weak.  He  seeks  out 
objects  of  compMsion ;   ho  inquires  into  their 


8<» 


\- 


178 


SBOOND    RBADEB. 


wants;  he  relieves  them  with  judgment,  and 
without  ostentation. 

2.  He  assists  and  rewards  merit ;  he  encour- 
ages ingenuity,  and  liberallj  promotes  every 
useful  design.  He  carries  on  great  works,  his 
country  is  enriched,  and  the  laborer  is  em- 
ployed; he  forms  new  schemes,  and  the  arts 
receive  improvement  He  considers  the  super- 
fluities of  his  table  as  belonging  to  the  poor  of 
his  neighborhood ;  and  he  defrauds  them  not. 
The  benevolence  of  his  mind  is  not  checked  by 
his  fortune;  he  rejoices,  therefore,  in  riches,  and 
his  joy  is  blameless. 

3.  The  virtuous  poor  man  also  may  rejoice ; 
for  he  has  many  reasons.  He  sits  down  to  his 
morsel  in  peace ;  his  table  is  not  crowded  with 
flatterers  and  devourers.  He  is  not  embarrassed 
with  a  train  of  dependants,  nor  .teased  with  the 
clamors  of  solicitation.  Debarred  from  the 
dainties  of  the  rich,  he  escapes  also  their  dis- 
eases. The  bread  that  he  eats,  is  it  not  sweet 
to  his  taste?  the  water  he  drinks,  is  it  not 
pleasant  to  his  thirst  ?  yea,  far  more  delicious 
than  the  richest  draughts  of  the  luxurious. 

4.  His  labor  preserves  his  health,  and  procures 
him  repose,  to  which  the  downy  bed  of  sloth  is 


*"«  ^«^^iir7li^^ 


179 


"om  than  aU  the  aToSl''  7^*^'  »"  ''« 
«««dear.  Let  not  Se  ST  "i  '"^'''  ""^ 
on  his  riches-  nor  ih.  ^^''"'' P^^'^^ 

Tield  to  de^r^^'^n  '"  "^  ^'''^y' 


moun-tam 
se-cret      ^ 
weep-ing 
some-hoi!^ ^ 


lESSON  IX. 

non^wBse  hap-pi-est 

•ome-thing  Der™,-, 

*"*-t«-l7  ex-ceed-ing-J 

wept  th«  moft  W  to?  Z  ^^"'''  '''""  ''^ 


180 


flE< 


IKADER. 


3.  You  did  not  know  Wilfred.  He  was  one 
of  those  children,  the  very  sight  of  whom  makes 
old  people  young  again.  Somehow,  even  when 
he  talked  nonsense,  he  made  you  think  of  God 
and  heaven. 


11 


4.  There  are  many  children  who  live  more 

in  the  night  than  in  the  day.     They  are  wise 

!  ajid  old  in  their  dreams  by  night,  even  when 

I  tliey  are  light  and  careless  in  their  games  and 

Uisks  by  day.     This  was  the  case  with  Wilfred. 


THE   WEEPIKO    ANOEL. 


181 


6.  He  liad  been  sleeping  for  an  hour,  when 
he  first  saw  the  weeping  angeL  So  he  said  to 
the  angel : 

**  Angel !  may  I  call  yon  dear  angel?" 

And  the  angel  answered,  "  Yes !  for  you  are 
my  little  brother  in"  Jesu&*' 

Then  Wilfred  said,  "Dear  angel  I  why  are 
you  always  Weeping .'" 

6.  And  the  angel  answered.  "My  sweet 
Wilfred,  our  great  and  good  God  has  some- 
thing which  He  loves  exceedingly,  and  which 
He  calls  His  glory.  Now,  all  the  world  over, 
men  are  continually  robbing  Him  of  His  glory, 
and  doing  wrong  to  Him.  So  I  stand  on  thij 
mountain-top,  all  the  year  round,  hundreds  of 
years ;  and  I  see  all  the  cities  of  the  world,  and 
the  inside  of  the  houses,  and  even  the  inside  of 
men's  hearta  This  last  I  could  not  see,  except 
by  a  special  permission  of  God, 

7.  "  Thus  I  see  every  thing  that  everybody 
docs.  I  hear  every  thing  that  everybody  says. 
I  know  every  thing  that  everybody  thinks. 
And  I  join  myself  to  every  work,  and  word, 
and  thought,  on  the  great,  huge  earth,  and  add 
my  love  of  God  to  it ;  and  I  weep  over  what  is 
wrong  in  it,  and  try  to  make  up  to  God  by  my 


182 


SEOOND    READER. 


tears  for  all  the  glory  which  men  might  give 
Him,  but  will  not  give  Him.  This  is  why  I  weep. 
8.  **And  I  weep  always,  becaase  always, 
somewhere  on  the  earth,  wrong  things  are  be- 
!  I  ing  done.  And  God  loves  my  teax^  and  Mary, 
our  sinless  queen,  is  always  offering  them  up  to 
Him.  And  all  heaven  sees  me  on  my  mountain- 
top,  and  they  make  songs  about  me  there,  and 
they  love  me  exceedingly,  and  they  call  me 
Poor  Earth's  AngeL" 


I 


•^•^ 


ru-ms 

saint-ed 

miu-night 


LESSON  IXI. 

ab-bey     sun-light  hal-low-ed 

tur-ret     struc-ture  de-part-ing 

mat-in      dear-er  moul-der-ing 


BUIKS. 


1.  "DEHOLD  those  abbey  Tails,  so  gray  I 
^  Oh  I  where's  yon  turret's  chime  ? 
Songs  of  the  blessed,  where  are  they. 

That  swelled  in  olden  time  ? 
Where  are  those  hallowed  choirs  at  even  ? 

That  matin  music — where 
Those  hymns  that  once  were  sung  to  Heaven? 

Now  angels  sing  them  there. 


*«••- 


U  i.  1|^ 


BUIN8. 


183 


3.  The  sunlight  of  departing  eve, 

The  moonbeam  glancing  through 
The  broken  arches^  teach  to  grieve 
For  hearts  long  broken  too ; 


As  o*er  yon  momldering  structure  hangs 

That  wreath  the  irj  makes, 
Thus  round  the  heart  shall  memory's  pangs 

Cling,  dearer  while  it  breaks. 


3.  The  green  tree  o*er  the  altar  bends, 

The  long  grass  sweeps  the  wall ; 
Deeply  her  sigh  the  midnight  sends 

Along  the  chancel  halL 
Of  sainted  memories,  calm  and  bright, 

No  legend  needs  to  tell ; 
For  story's  pen  mnst  fail  to  write 

What  ruins  paint  so  well 


'  <■» 


LESSON  IXII. 

Se-baa-tian        im-pet-uos-i-ty      se-ver-i-ty 
un-cov-er-ing     thnn-der-stmck     em-bold-en-ed 
sor-row-ful-ly    ad-mi-rartion         gen-tle-men 

BEBA8TIAK   OOMBZ. 

AS  soon  as  Sebastian  felt  he  was  alone,  he 
leaped  for  joy ;  bat,  the  next  moment,  re- 
membering his  master's  words,  he  said  sorrow- 
fully, "  Oh,  my  sad  fortune!  twenty-five  lashes, 
if  I  don't  tell ;  and  thirty,  if  there  are  no  new 
figures ;  twenty-five  lashes,  perhaps,  when  they 
come  to  know  who  draws  them.  Poor  slave, 
it  was  all  a  dream.  I  must  blot  it  out,  and 
never  let  it  happen  again.  Oh !  I  feel  sleepy," 
added  he,  yawning ;  "  let  me  say  my  prayers : 


who  ki 
all  this 

2.  S 
served 
out  wit 
in  the 
side  of 
roof  of 
in  that 
the  lit 
o'clock 

3.  " 
forcing 
his  arm 
repeate 

before  "< 

• 

self;  th 
profit  l 
it  will  I 
Courag< 
is  not  n 
4  A 
Ribero'i 
us  wash 
pencil  f 
the  hes 


SEBASTIAN    GOMEZ. 


186 


who  knows,  a  good  Grod  may  bring  me  out  of 
all  this  trouble.** 

2.  Sebastian  knelt  down  on  the  mat  that 
served  him  aa  a  bed  at  night ;  but  soon,  worn 
out  with  the  fatigues  of  the  day,  he  fell  asleep 
in  the  midst  of  his  prayers;  and  having  the 
side  of  one  of  the  pillars  which  supported  the 
roof  of  the  studio  to  lean  against,  he  remained 
in  that  position  until  the  dawn.  The  clock  of 
the  little  cloister  of  St  Francis  rung  three 
o'clock  before  Sebastian  awoke. 

3.  " Up,  up,  lazy  fellow!"  said  he  to  himself, 
forcing  his  eyes  to  keep  open,  and  stretching 
his  arms  until  the  joints  cracked;  and  again  he 
repeated,  "  Up,  lad,  you  have  three  hours  yet 
before  you ;  three  hours  that  belong  to  your- 
self; three  hours  that  you  are  your  own  master ; 
profit  by  them,  poor  slave.  When  they  come, 
it  wiU  be  time  enough  to  take  your  chain  again. 
Courage !  do  what  you  like  for  three  hours ;  it 
is  not  much." 

4.  And  now,  wide  awake,  the  boy  went  to 
Ribero's  canvas.  "First  of  all,"  said  he,  "let 
us  wash  out  all  these  faces."  And  he  took  a 
pencil  and  dipped  it  in  oil  Then,  uncovering 
the  head  of  the  Virgin,  to  which  the  gentle 


186 


SBOOMD    RBADBB. 


fr 


light  of  dawn  lent  an  aspect  still  more  soft  and 
delicate  than  before — *'Let  us  put  out  t^'  . 
Efface  it!"  he  said,  smiling  at  the  delicio  j 
image  he  had  created;  "efface  it! — they  did 
not  dare  to  do  it  with  all  their  sarcasnL  Well, 
shall  I  have  more  courage  ?  No,  no ;  I  would 
rather  be  beaten,  if  it  must  be  so — ^but  thia 
head  Uves,  it  breaUiea  K  I  were  to  efface  it, 
it  would  be  a  murder — ^no,  we'll  finish  it!" 

5.  At  these  words,  Sebastian  seized  his 
brushes  and  palette,  and  set  to  work.  *•  Aiter 
all,"  adde<l  he,  "if  I  must  wash  it  out,  1  shall 
have  tiinc  €ik  ugh,  before  the  master  and  the 
pupils  come.  The  hair  is  not  wavy  enough — 
there  it  is  too  hard — this  line  is  too  straight — 
come,  I  get  on — a  Virgin  should  be  praying : 
I'll  open  her  mouth  a  bit — ^there  now — she 
breathes — ^her  eyes  look  at  me — I  hear  a  sigh 
fall  on  the  veil  that  covers  her  shoulders.  Oh, 
my  beautiful  Virgin!" 

6.  Day  continued  to  advance ;  the  sun's  rays 
penetrated  through  the  glass  of  the  studio  cu- 
pola, bathing  every  object  that  was  in  the  room 
in  a  flood  of  light  Sebastian  forgot  all,  so 
wrapt  up  was  he  in  his  composition.  The  hour 
drawing  near,  the  pains  of  slavery,  the  twenty- 


five  lai 
was  b( 
the  ho 
lar  ma 
7.  [ 
heado 
an  exj 
He  wa 
at  onc( 
the  po 

a  g 

thatM 
Surprii 
of  flyi 
wished 
up.  I 
head  I 
brush : 
anguis 

9.  1 
part  oi 
being 
pupils 
they  h 

10. 
their  a 


SEBASTIAN    OOMBZ. 


187 


five  lasbes — all  was  forgotten  but  the  art  that 
was  bom  with  him,  and  which  his  residence  in 
the  house  of  Murillo  had  develops'  a  singu- 
lar manner. 

7.  The  young  artist  saw  notL  .i,  the 
head  of  the  Virgin  Mary  smiling  upon  him,  with 
an  expression  of  heavenly  goodness  and  grace. 
He  was  free,  high  in  heaven  with  her,  when  all 
at  once  the  noise  of  sudden  footsteps  brought 
the  poor  slave  down  to  eaith. 

8.  Sebastian,  without  turning  his  head,  felt 
that  Murillo  and  his  pupils  stood  behind  him. 
Surprised  and  thunderstruck,  he  neither  thought 
of  flying  nor  of  justifying  himself;  he  only 
wished  the  floor  would  open  and  swallow  him 
up.  But  vain  wish  I  The  poor  boy  stood,  his 
head  bent  down,  his  palette  in  one  hand,  his 
brush  in  the  other,  a  prey  to  the  most  intense 
anguish,  waiting  his  punishment 

9.  There  was  a  moment  of  silence  on  the 
part  of  aU;  for  if  Sebastian  were  petrified  by 
being  taken  in  the  very  act,  Murillo  and  his 
pupils  were  not  less  amazed  by  the  discovery 
they  had  made. 

10.  The  youths,  with  the  iMpetuosity  of 
their  age,  were  about  to  express  their  admira- 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


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8X00KD   BBADXB. 


iSon,  when  the  master,  making  a  sign  for  them 
to  be  silent,  drew  near  the  sbvei  and  conceal- 
ing his  own  feelings  under  an  air  of  severitj 
and  coldness,  he  said  to^^khn: 

"  Sebastian,  who  is  jonr  master  ?^ 

"  Yon,  signor/*  replied  the  boy,  in  a  voice 
scarcely  anmble. 

11.  "  Your  master  in  painting,  Seba^ian  ?** 

*^  You,  signer,''  replie^l^aetian,  trembling. 

"  Boy,  I  never  gaive  you  a  lessoa" 

**No,  master;  but  you  gave  them  to  others, 
and  I  listened,''  answered  the  lad,  emboldened 
hf  the  softened  tone  of  his  master. 

'*^And  you  profited." 

"Pardon,  signer;  you  never  forbade  me," 
said  Sebastian. 

i2,  Murillo  quickly  retorted:  "And  by  the ^ 
old  |MBlfon  saint  of  Spain,  you  l^^ve  profited 
more  than  any  one  of  my  pupils  has  yet  done. 
So,"  added  he,  "you  worked  in  the  night?" 

"No,  matter;  in  the  day." 

"At  what  hour,  then?  Thdile  gentlemen 
eomeatsix" 

"From  three  to  five,  maeter;  but  to-day  I 
forgot  the  hour." 

MurUlo  smiled. 


0BBA8TIAH   OOICBZ. 


189 


•«•«■ 


LESSON  LIIII. 

ptn-ish-ment  cal-ti-vat-ed  oom-po-si-tioii 
dif-fi-cul-ties  scni-ti-niz-ing  sap-pli-cartion 
ap-proY-ing        at-ten-Uve-ly       ao-knowl-edge 

8SBA8TIAK   GOICBZ. 
OOflTUIUJBDb 

*^  TTAVE  yon  forgotten  wliat  I  promised  you 
-IJ-  to-day?"  said  MnriUo.  The  poor  slave 
grew  pale,  and  trembled  from  head  to  foot 
*^0h,  Sign(»r  MorOlo,"  cried  the  pupils,  ^*  par- 
don, pardon  for  SebasMan !" 

2.  "  I  ask  nothing  better,  gentlemen ;  and  I 
think  we  should  do  more:  the  boy  not  only 
does  not  deserve  punishment,  but  merits  re- 
ward." 

^^  Reward  I"  cried  Sebastian,  scarcely  able  to 
stand,  and  venturing  to  cast  a  glance  up  to  his 
master. 

3.  ^^Yes,  Sebastian,  a  reward,"  replied  Mu- 
riUo,  kindly.  ^^  To  have  arrived  at  the  ability 
you  have  shown  in  this  head  of  th<i  Virgin,  as 
well  as  in  those  other  little  figure!^  irbil^h  I  have 
seen  on  the  canvas  of  these  gentMtttai,  you 
must  have  conquered  many  difficulties;  without 


speaking  of  those  hours  of  rest  which  you  gave 
vp  to  stodj — 'Without  speaking  of  the  sleep  of 
wyeh  7011  deprived  yoursell^  in  ovdas  U>  work 
wh^  no  one  knew. 

4i#  (^  You  must  halve  giveE  deep,  attention  to 
all  017  words,  cultivated  an  immense  memory 
in  order  to  remember  them,  and  devoted  jour- 
F^if  to  rare  application  My  boy,  allVithis  de- 
serves a  rewMrd,  afied  not  a  punshmeni  What 
shoidd  you  like  r 

5;  Sebi«tia&  knew  not  If  ke  were  asleep  or 
awftke :  hia  eyed  wanckred  tttim  ihe  aj^roving 
hce  of  his  iQiister,  to  the  sowing  visages  of  the 
piqdili;  iBadlil  pressectoadhaadnilhthe  other 
to  assifftf  bjnuidf  he  was  not  in  #       aa, 

6/  '^Cdme^  Sebifl^liii,  cKmiagte^l'^  whkpered 
Ribero;  **the  master  is  pkused  with  you;  ask 
for  a  mce  dueat  a  new  one-^-I  wager  the  nguor 
won't  refusal" 

"Onel"  cried  Raba;  "askHen.'* 

^^TweK^r*  coried  Ga^fwrd;  *^I  know  my 
ftfther,  he  will  give  ^em.''        ' 

7.  *^Tott  make  vesry  free  with  my  poxBe,  my 
iOfi}  but  I  shall  not  ooatnidlet  you-^ninr  you 
diher,    giMiflemen,*''    said    Iteiikv    imiUng. 

•very  one  m-  apeakiDg  but 


•t 


.MariaaWWMM 


mmUmtl^ 


ASBA8TIAK   OOMXZ. 


€91 


gave 
lep  of 
work 

on  to 
moiy 
your- 
is  de* 
Wiat 

sp  or 
oving 
>f  the 
ot^er 

pered 
;  ask 
iguor 


r  iny 

•,  my 
r  you 
liling. 
BT  bat 


: 


yourself^  and  it  is  to  yon  I  pat  the  qaestioii, 
my  child,"  added  the  great  artist,  atteatiyely 
scratinizing  Sebastian,  who  appeared  anmoved 
by  these  words  of  the  papils;  **are  theie  rewards 
not  enough  ?    Bat  speak  then,  my  lad. 

8.  *'  I  am  so  pleased  with  yoor  oompo&tion, 
yoar  light  and  d^ca^  touch,  yoor  colorings— 
this  hea4  ^  ^%  of  which  the  drawmg  might 
be  more  oorreet,  bat  to  whidi  joa  hare  given 
an  ezpresdoB  of  soch  c^estial  divMty,  and 
which  yoar  peoeil  alone  has  created.  I  am  so 
pleas^  that  I  aai  ready  to  gire  yoa  any  thing 
yoa  ask-Hill  that  is  in  my  power ;  that  is — '' 

9.  ^O  maflii^,  master!^ — ^uo,  I  dare  not'^ 
And  Sebastiaa,  who  had  fUlea  on  his  koeea  at 
his  master's  feet,  jdned  Ms  hands  together  in 
an  attitacb  of  sapplication, ,  On  the  open  lips 
of  the  boy,  in  h»  expressiTe  eyes^  on  his  noble 
forehead,  might  be  read  an  intens^^  deyooring 
thought,  that  tiilddity  alone  prevented  his  giv- 
ing utterance  to,  bat  whidi  swelled  in  every 
vein,  and  died  away  on  his  pale,  trembling  lip& 

JLO.  "What  a  fooll**  cried  Gaspard;  "my  &r 
ther  tells  you  to  speak." 
"  %>eak,  then,"  said  another ;  "  ask  for  gold." 
No,  ask  for  some  handsome  dresses^  Sebas- 


«i 


mJ 


i9i 


8SOOND 


tian ;  jon  are  tall,  slight,  and  well  built — they 
will  be  becoming.*'^ 


"  I  gaeas,"  said  Ribero,  "  I  gueas  whit  It  ia 
Sebastian  wants  to  be  admitted  as  a  papil 


rf 


among  os. 


M 


J(4%3:. 


11. 

Sebasi 

"If 

^'A 

said  € 

among 

Seb 
"» 
12i 

IS  ma 
Ac 

of  joy 
"01 

be,  in 

asked. 

13. 
pressii 

"M; 

"Yi 
Murill 
as  he] 

Av< 
the  stc 
saw  ol< 


-they 


it  la 
papH 


8BBA8TIAK    GOMEZ. 


193 


11.  A  flush  of  joj  passed  over  the  face  of 
Sebastian.  ^    \ 

''If  it  be  that,  ask  it,  my  la^**  said  Mnrilla 

-'  And  ask,  too,  the  best  place  ne»\r  the  light,** 
said  Gonsalves,  whose  easel  was  badly  placed, 
among  the  last  in  the  studio. 

''  WeH,  is  it  thatf*  asked  MuxiQo. 

Seba^iaa  shook  his  head. 

"  Ik)  r  add  Manila 

1%  *^S^>astiaii,"  cfied  Qaspard,  "my  &ther 
is  in  a  giring  humor  to-day:  Bsk  your  freedom." 

A  cry  burst  from  the  lip^o^  SebastiaQ,  a  cry 
of  joy---H>f  paiiir--!fl|ma6t  of  grief  ^ 

"  Oh,  freedom,  free%>m  for  my  Mber  !*'  cried 
he,  in  a  voice  choked  by  tears  and  sobs. 

"  And  yours— do  yott  not  desire  your  own  ?" 
asked  JMlb. 

13.  Sebastian  hung  down  his  head,  and  sup- 
pressing a  sob,  answered : 

"  My  &ther*s  fost,  signer." 

''  Yes,  my  poor  child ;  and  youra  also,**  said 
Murillo,  no  longer  able  lo^  restrain  his  feelings, 
as  he  raised  and  embraced  Sebastian. 

A  voice  of  weeping  was  heard  in  the  comer  of 
the  studio ;  all  turned  their  eyes  towards  it,  and 
saw  old  Gomez  crying  and  sobbing  like  a  ohUd. 


m0^0^^m^m^0*^K^^^^m 


m0^ 


14.  '*Thon  art  free,  GomeW  atid  Mnollo, 
giying  him  his  hand. 

^^Free  to  serve  jou  aU  mj  lifoi  master/*  re- 
plied Gomes,  falling  on  hia  knees  and  kissing 
has  Biaater^s  hand. 

**0h,  my  master,  my  good  maaterl^  wag  all 
diat  Sebastiaa's  feelings  enalded  him  to  utter. 

16.  "Sebastian,"  said  MnnUo,  tor^Sng  to- 
wards the  yomth,  "  your  pencil  has  proved  you 
to  have  geniua;  your  request  has  proved  you 
to  possess  a  noble  heart  From  iiaa  day  I 
admowledge  you  to  be  aa  artist  indeed,  and 
receive  you  among  my  pu 


n 


'fc-l 


<m*m 


■'* 


2. 


LESSON  IXIV. 

OBATITUBB  TO   THB   SITPBXllil  ^BIITO. 

HOW  cheerful  along  the  gay  mead» 
The  daisy  and  cowslip  appear ! 
The  flocks,  as  they  carelessly  feed^ 
.Bcgoice  in  the  spring  of  tiifiyear. 

The  myrtles  that  aliade  the  gaf  bowos^ 
The  herbage  that  sfuings  from  i^  sod^ 

Trees,  plaat%€OolingfruitBt  aaBdaweetfl^werSy 
All  listyto  the  praise  of  n^  Cbd^ 


J 


T9X  SISOBBDIXITT  BOT. 


lift 


%.  ShaU  man,  the  great  master  q£  all, 
Tlie  Only  insensible  prove? 
ForUd  it^  fidr  Gratitade*a  call ! 
Forbid  it^  devotioa  and  love  I 

4  The  Lord,  who  snch  wonders  ooidd  raise, 
And  still  can  destroy  with  a  nod, 
My  lips  dial!  incessanify  pndse; 
My  heart  shall  rejoice  in  my  God. 


mm0» 


s 


iissoir  MT. 

chas-ttse^meni    l^mp-tartidii     Htir-fimnd'liiid 
re-memrto^    tedlE^-tloa      VM^>-pear^ 
con-qner-^       ii!aiMi&^        pemkei^^mSsm 

ira«  maoisBixiTT  B^ir« 

EE^  thenr  k  B^e  Edward  WUiaxm  taken  from 
the  water  bjr  his  great  dog,  Ponta  I  won- 
der is  he  dead,  poi^  little  Mowl  No,  he  is 
notdead.    lamgladofit;  and  I  am  ssare  yo« 

are,  toa 

%  Bui  da  yon  know  that  little  Edward  de*> 
served  snch  a  chastiBeB^nt,^^  even  if  he  h^ 
been  drowned  P-^-^^nd  I  will  teQ  yon  why.  His 
moth^  had  often  told  him  not  to  ]^y  oeir  the 
waterside,  or  to  go  bathing  with  other  boyft 


MtBM 


SBOOVO    BBADXB. 


3.  For  some  time  Edward  aroided  tbe  wi^er, 
in  obedience  to  his  mother;  but  one  day  he 
was  running  a  race  with  Ponto^  not  &r  from 
^e  river's  bank,  and  what  should  he  see  but  a 
young  moor-hen,  diring  down  into  the  long, 
sedgy  grass,  not  many  yards  from  where  he 
stood.  ''There,**  thought  he,  ''is  a  nest  worth 
l^^nng;*  i 


4  Biward's  first  thought  was  to  run  and 
seize  the  moor-fowFs  nest;  but  all  at  onoe  he 
remembered  his  mover's  injunction,  and  the 
tears  came  into  his  eye9.  "It  iift^^ very  hard,** 
saipl  he  to  himself^  "  that  a  fellow  caimot  go  and 
get  tlill  nest,  when  there  is  no  danger — none 
ki  the  world*** -* 

6.  l!dwaTd*s  obediende^  was  not  wortii  much, 


y;ri    riikTTiV^^mm 


'.,^ '"" 


K 


tUM  DIBOBBDIXITT    BOT. 


19T 


then;  for  when  a  hay  at  girl  begins  to  find 
fiuih  with  the  commands  of  {Murents  or  teachers, 
thej  are  half  conquered  by  the  tempter.  Now 
it  so  happened  that  while  Edward  sCbod,  with  a 
dondj  brow,  eyeing  the  spot  which  contained 
the  supposed  treasure,  the  moor-hen  started  up 
once  more  full  in  his  view^  and  flew  awaj  orer 
the  broad  riyer. 

6.  At  the  sights  all  Edward*s  resolution  van- 
ished. He  yielded  at  once  to  the  temptation. 
"  There  she  goesp  he  shouted,  in  ecstasy,  **and 
I  have  nothing  to  do  but  reach  down  and  lay 
my  hand  on  ft^.ijppg  diickens^  snd  then — 
won't  I  have  soinetting  worth  diowing  at 
homer 

7.  Away  went  Edwftrd  towards  the  river, 
and  away  went  $bntp  after  him,  through  the 
long,  dewy  gam,  Th»  spot  was  gained,  but 
Edward  fi>und  that  to  secure  his  prize  was  not 
so  easy.  Between  it  and  him  was  a  narrow 
channdi  of  the  river,  a  yard  or  so  in  w;jdth ;  for 
the  nest  was  on  a  tiny  islet  but  in  the  water. 

a  ''It  is  unlucky,**  said  Edward;  ''but  no 
matto* — I  can  easily  jump  across.   I  have  often 
IjunqMd  ftr&er  than  that     Gome,  Ponto,  my 
boy  I  Ibfiow  me.** 


I 


II  I  iHialM 


■>i»  ■ 


jm 


■SOOHD   BBAMB. 


Edward  jumped;  bat  the  distance  iras  greater 
than  he  thought,  and  instead  of  jnmphig  oathe 
islet,  he  fell  spheh  into  the  wftter,  with  a  cry  of 
terror.  But  his  cries  would  havre  heem  of  little 
airail,  had  it  not  been  for  his  fidtibM  dog,  fWho, 
being  of  the  Newfonn^and.  bfeed,  was  both 
large  and  strong;^  sad  well  accustomed  to  the 
water.  ?    \\ 

9.  Leapnig  into  .^e  water  after  his  little 
master,  who  had  alreadjr  sunk,  the  noble  animal 
soon  reappeared  on  the  snr&ce,  holding  the  lit- 
tie  boy  by  the  flap  of  his  jacket 

Yon  may  imagine  how  thankfiil  ildward  was 
for  his  preservation,  and  how  sincefety  he  prom- 
ised neyer  again  to  disobey  his  parents  in  any 
thing. 


<■» 


lESSON  IXTL 

AOKirOWLXBOMXHT   OF   DIVtHS   VATOBS. 

1.  WHENE'ER  I  take  my  walks  abroad 

»*  How  many  poor  I  see^I^ 
What  shall  I  render  to  my  God, 
Fdr  all  His  gifts  to  me! 

2.  Nc^  more  thaa  otheis  I  desenr% 

Yet  ^ji^Uiiitt  given  me  more; 


mmm::s3st 


mm 


▲OKKOWLBDOKSKT,   STO. 


199 


i! 


For  I  hftTe  food,  while  others  starve, 
Or  beg  from  door  to  door. 

3.  How  many  childreD  in  the  street, 
Halfnaked,  I  behold! 
While  I  am  clothed  from  head  to  feet> 
And  ooyered  from  the  cold. 

4  While  some  poor  crieatares  scarce  can  tell 
Where  ^ej  may  lay  their  head» 
I  have  a  home  wherein  to  dw^ 

Jjjd  resli  i^n  my  bed. 
e  others  early  learn  to  swear, 
And  corse,  and  lie,  and  steal, 
Lord  1  I  am  taoght  Thy  name  to  fear, 
Antf  do  Thy  holy  will 

6.  Are  these  Thy  filters  day  by  day. 
To  me  above  the  restf 
Then  let  me  love  Thee  more  than  they, 
And  try  to  serve  Thee  best! 


-^•^ 


LESSON  LXYII. 


pnn-cess 
dangh-ter 
Eng-land 
bos4>m 


vir-tn-ons 
Ksth-e*rine 
comi^-lors 
oar-di-nals 


ref-or-ma-tion 
ao-cus-tom-ed 
al-to-geth-er 
ad-mi-ra-ble 


L*! 


200 


^t^/l^ryv»^ 


SBGOITD    BSADKB. 


«^. 


THE  VIBTVOVS   QUBBV. 

DO  you  know,  little  children,  what  this  pio- 
ture  means?  I  do  not  think  jou  can,  un* 
less  you  are  told;  so  I  will  tell  yon.  About 
three  hundred  years  ago,  there  was  a  king  of 
England,  Henry  the  Eighth,  wl|o  had  a  fair  and 
virtuous  wife,  named  Katherine.  She  had  been 
the  mother  of  a  family  of  childi:en,  but  only  one 


THX  TIBTfrOVS   QUXSK. 


201 


of  them  remained,  a  daughter,  who  was  called 
the  Princess  Mary. 

2.  For  a  long  time  the  good  queen  and  her 
husband  lived  happily  together;  but  there 
came  a  day  when  bad  companions  brought  the 
king  to  sin  and  shame,  and  then  he  began  to 
hate  his  virtuous  wife,  and  wished  to  put  her 
away  from  him  altogether,  to  please  some  of 
his  wicked  counsellors,  who  hated  the  innocent 
queen  a§d  her,  daughter. 

3.  lj|ly  of  the  king^s  faithful  friends  sought 
to  persuade  hiuLagainst  doing  this  cruel  wrong, 
but  he  would  not  listen  to  them ;  and  he  sent 
the  two  cardinals  whom  you  see  in  the  picture, 
to  tell  the  queen  Ijbiat  she  must  leave  his  house, 
and  not  even  take  her  daughter  with  her. 

4  It  was  a  hard  sentence  for  so  good  a  wife 
and  so  good  a  mother,  and  she  felt  as  if  her 
heart  was  breaking.  But,  like  all  true  Chris- 
tians, Queen  Katherine  was  accustomed  to  pour 
her  sorrows  into  the  bosom  of  our  merciful 
Saviour ;  and  there  you  see  her  kneeling  before 
the  crucifix,  and  asking  God  for  strength  to 
bear  that  heavy  load  of  grief  She  prays,  too, 
for  her  unhappy  husband,  that  his  eyes  may  be 
opened  to  the  error  of  his  ways.     And  ikm  car- 


^2 


BBOOKD    READER. 


n 


cBnals  are  sajing  to  each  other,  "What  an  ad- 
mirable lesson  in  patience  and  forgiTeness  of 

*  *    *     111 
injuries! 

5.  When  you  are  older  ^on  will  know  all 

about  Queen  Katherine.     Her  story  is  a  yery 

long  and  a  very  sad  one,  and  you  will  like  to 

read  it  in  the  history  of  England.     Tou  will 

read,  too,  how  her  wicked  husband  Rebelled 

against  the  Pope,  because  he  would  not  consent 

to  his  cruel  treatment  of  his  queen ;  jpd  how 

he  made  himself  a  pope,  and  begiflpwhat  is 

called  the  Reformation.    These  and  many  other 

nice  stories  you  can  read  in  history;  so  you 

must  make  haste,  and  learn  to  read  weH 


•^•^ 


LESSON  IIVIII. 

0B2ATI0N    AlTD    PBOYIDSKOE. 

L  T  SING  th'  almighty  power  of  God, 
■-  That  made  the  mountains  rise ; 
That  spread  the  flowing  seas  abroad, 
And  built  the  lofty  skiee^  ^ 

2.  I  sing  the  wisdom  that  ordained 
The  sun  to  rule  the  day : 
The  moon  shines  full  at  His  command, 
And  all  the  stars  obey. 


r-^ 


OBBATIOV    AKD   PBOTIDXNOB.       203 


3.  I  sing  the  goodness  of  the  Jjord, 
That  Med  the  earth  with  food: 
He  formed  the  creatures  with  His  word^ 
And  thon  pronounced  them  good. 

4  Lord!  how  Thj  wonders  are  ^Bsplayed, 
Wherever  I  turn  mine  eye ; 
If  I  sarvej  the  gronnd  I  tread, 
Or  gaze  upon  the  sky  I 

6.  There's  not  a  plant  or  flower  below^ 
^ut  makes  Thy  glories  known; 
And  clouds  arise  and  tempests  blow^ 
By  ordei  £rom  Thy  throna 

6.  Creatures*  (as  numerous  as  they  l>e) 

Are  subject  to  Thy  care; 
There's  not  a  place  where  we  can  fiee^ 
But  Gol  is  present  there. 

7.  In  heaven  He  shines  with  beams  of  lore; 

With  wrath  in  hell  beneath  I 
'Tis  on  His  earth  I  stand  or  mo^e» 
And  'tis  His  air  I  breathe. 

8.  His  hand  is  my  perpetual  guard; 

He  keeps  me  with  His  eye : 
Why  should  I  then  forget  the  Lord^ 
Who  is  forever  nigh  ? 


>kw- 


% 


204 


BBOOITD   BBADBB. 


LESSON  LXIX. 

fright-en-ed  val-u-ed  dia-o-be-di^ence 

traDfr-gress-ing  Ghi-na-ware 

or-na>ment8  con-tra-rj 

pa-go-da  xnis-er-a-ble 


nn-for-ta-nate 
cen-tre-ta-ble 
coni'mand-ments 


WHAT  IT  Ze  TO  HAYB  A  BAD  OOITSOIENOE. 

WHAT  a  miserable  thing  it  k  to  have  a  bad 
conscience!  Onlj  see  how  frightened 
those  two  yoang  sisters  are,  beoanse  llpr  good 
mamma  has  come  into  their  plaj-room.  And 
why  is  tliatt- 

2.  W%,  because  their  consdence  tells  them 
that  they  have  been  doing  wrong,  and  trans- 
gressing their  mother's  commands.  She  had 
often  told  them  that  they  must  not  take  any 
thing  to  play  ^th,  except  their  own  toys;  and, 
above  all,  life  they  must  not  meddle  with  any 
of  her  little  China  ornaments., 

3.  Well,  what  do  you  think  the  naughty 
girls  have  been  doing?  Theirs  mother  went 
out  to  market,  and  in  they  went  to  the  parlor, 
and  took  some  nice  little  pieces  of  China-ware 
off  the  centre^table,  and  had  them  in  their  play. 
You  will  not  be  surprised  to  hear  that  they 


have 
whicl 
was  { 
dead. 


4  ' 
that  < 
prettj 
wish. 


A    BAD    OONSOXEirOE. 


205 


have  broken  one  of  them-— «  Chinese  pagoda, 
which  their  mother  valued  very  highly,  for  it 
was  given  her  by  a  beloved  sister,  long  since 
dead. 


4  The  children  knew  this  very  well,  and  yet 
that  did  not  prevent  them  from  taking  the 
pretty  toy,  contrary  to  their  moiher^s  express 
wisL    Now,  when  it  is  too  late,  they  ire  sorry 


'  t" 


306 


8I00ND    RIADBB. 


for  their  &,iilt ;  they  know  they  have  deserred 
pnnishmeiit,  which  their  mother  is  sore  to  give 
when  she  finds  them  out — ^for  she  never  over- 
looks or  forgives  a  positive  act  of  disobedience. 

5.  To  do  them  justice,  they  are  sorry,  too, 
for  having  broken  the  keepsake  of  their  Aunt 
lime,  whidi  their  mother  had  treasured  for 
many  a  long  year ;  and  they  do  feel  w;retched. 
You  see  they  are  tiying  to  keep  between  their 
mother  and  the  doll's  house,  wherein  the  frag- 
ments are  concealed. 

6.  ^^r  children!  the  trifling  pleasure  they 
had  &r  a  moment  in  plajdng  with  the  little 
temple,  k  already  followed  by  the  torment  of 
remcfse  and  shame,  uid  the  fear  of  punishment 
And  io  it  is,  children,  with  every  act  of  disobe- 
dience, whether  it  be  against  the  oommand.- 
ments  €^'€k>d,  your  parents,  or  your  teachers. 

7.  Eliza  and  Fanny  would  give  all  the  toys 
they  have,  and  many  more  if  they  had  them,  to 
see  the  unfortunate  pagoda  safe  back  on  the 
centre-table ;  but,  alas  I  their  sorrow  is  now  of 
no  avail:  it  cannot  repair  the  mischjief  they 
have  done.  It  may  be,  however,  that  this 
severe  lesson  may  cure  them  of  their  disobe- 
dience.   I  am  sure  I  hope  it  will  . 


THB   VALL    OF   THX   LXAF. 


WI 


serred 

0  give 
r  over- 
iience. 
jT,  too, 
r  Aunt 
ed  for 
itched. 

1  their 
)  frag- 

3  they 
i  little 
ent  of 
iment 
tisobe- 
inand- 
hers. 
9  toys 
enif  to 
m  the 
low  of 
they 
this 
lisobe- 


t 


LESSON  IXX.       . 

THX   FALL   OF   THX   LXAF. 

1.  QEE  the  leaves  around  us  falling, 

^  Dry  and  withered,  to  the  ground^ 
Thus  to  thoughtless  mortals  calling. 
In  a  sad  and  solemn  sound : 

2.  *^  Sons  of  Adam  (once  in  lEden^      ^ 

When  like  us  he  blighted  fell). 
Hear  the  lecture  we  are  reading ; 
'Tis,  alas  I  the  truth  we  tell. 

3.  "Virgins,  niuch,  too  muchi|>resuming 

On  your  boasted  white  and  red, 
Yiew  us,  late  in  beauty  blooming. 
Numbered  now  among  the  dead  I 

4  "  Youths,  though  yet  no  losses  grieve  you, 
€lay  in  health,  and  many  a  grace. 
Let  not  cloudless  skies  deceive  you ; 
Summer  gives  to  autumn  place. 

5.  "Yearly  in  our  course  returning, 
Messengers  of  shortest  stay ; 
Thus  we  preach  this  truth  concemio|^. 
Heaven  and  earth  shall  pass  away. 


-i  .. 


208 


BBOOND    BKADBB. 


6.  ^  On  the  Tree  of  Life  etenxal, 

Man,  let  all  thy  hopes  be  staid ; 
Which  alone,  forever  vernal, 
Bears  a  leaf  that  shall  not  fisd&** 


^•^^ 


LESSON  LXXI. 

at-ten-tioin     nat-n-ral  lash-es     fra^^nce 

gath-ep^     good-na-tnre    ciill-ed     Mar-tha 
ez-pseiHdon  trath-fol-ness  pleaa-ed  lil-ly 

LITTLE    HAaOIB. 

HAT  a  nice  little  girl  Maggie  Lyons  is! 
She  is  very  pretty,  *as  you  may  see  in  the 
picture ;  her  hair  hangs  in  natural  carls  about 
her  &ce,  and  her  sweet  blue  eyes  look  out 
through  their  long  lashes  with  such  an  expres- 
sion of  truthfulness  and  good-nature  that  you 
cannot  help  loving  her.  And  Maggie  Lyons  is 
a  good  little  girl — just  as  good  as  she  looks. 

2.  She  has  been  to  the  garden  to  cull  flowers, 
and  just  see  what  a  Sice  nose-gay^  she  has  got  I 
What  do  you  think  she  will  do  with  it?  I 
suppose  she  means  to  give  it.  to  some  of  her 
little  friends — to  Martha  Qreen,  perhaps,  or 
Lilly  Wella 


LITTLX   XAOOIB. 


20d 


3.  No  such  thing. 
Much  as  Maggie  loves 
her  3roiing  oompanions, 
it  is  not  for  any  of 
them  she  has  gaithered 
those  flowera  Her 
dear  motheHfllbk,  3bA 
cannot  leave  her  ro%n, 
and  she  loves  the  fridi 
fragrance  of  the  flow- 
ers, for  she  says  it  doeA 
her  good:  so  little  Mag 
gie  has  cnUed  Ihose 
flowers  for  her.  She 
intends  to  put  them  in 
a  vase  on  her  mother's 
table,  before  die  is  np;  and  she  is  jnst  think- 
ing how  pleased  that  dear,  kind  mollier  will  be 
by  this  little  mark  of  attention  from  her.  Dp 
you  not  love  pretty  Maggie  Lyons? 


•mtm 


haib-let 
na-tive 
dis-tanoe 


ii 


LESSOK  LXIII. 

live-ly  ^  ia-nn-mer-arble 

spiight-ly  nn-for-ta-nate*)y 

hand-some  tem-per-a-ment 


,'.**• 


LITTLE   JOSEPH. 

^I^HE  young  Savoyard,  or  Little  Joseph,  as  he 
-L  k  more  frpqaendy  called,  was  bom  in  a 
hamlet  on  the  side  of  Mount  Cenis.  His  parents 
were  also  natives  of  the  same  village,  which 
was  some  distance  np  th/  sid^^f  that  well- 
known  monntain.  ^ 

2.  jQieph  was  their  odly  child — a  lively, 
joyoiflfty,  sprightly  as  the  kid  of  his  Alpine 
home.  He  was  jnst  ten  y^rs  of  age  when  we 
became  acquainted  with  tne  family.  Joseph 
had  inherited  the  handsome  figure  of  his  father, 
and  the  gentle  disposition  and  loving  heart  of 
his  mother. 

3.  Anna — that  was  his  mothe|'*s  name — a 
fidthM  Catholic — zealously  sought  to  form  her 
darling's  young  mind  according  to  the  true 
spirit  of  the  Church.  She  taught  him  to  check 
sll  inclination  to  anger  or  disobedience  in  its 
very  germ,  and  encouraged  the  growth  of  all 
the  virtues  peculiar  to  his  ardent  temperament 

4  So  docile  was  he  by  the  timie^  he  had  at- 
tained his  tenth. jear,  that  he  might  be  com- 
pared to  the  lambs,  with  which  he  loved  to 
play.    His  parents*  honse,  the  Alps,  and  his 


fiither^s  little  flock  were  his  world;  and  beyond 
a  congregation  of  aboat  three  hundred  persona, 
who  aasembled  on  Sundays  and  holydays  im 
the  chnrch,  he  did  not  know  a  sooL 

6.  He  was  totally  ignorant  of  the  bnstle  of 
the  worlds  and  equally  nnoonscioiis  of  its  sin 
and  vice.  Hu  ffil  heart  was  free  from  those 
passions  which  nnfoftapately  agitate  the  breasts 
of  many  other  children^  and  drive  then^it  too 
early  out  of  the  paradise  of  innocenc^jjjjp 

€.  Joseph,  unlike  those  children  whose  innu- 
merable desires  can  never  be  satisfied,  djenshed 
but  one— to  be  pleasing  to  God  and  give  joy  to 
hisparenta.  And  «.  eameaUy  did  he  strive  for 
this,  that  it  might  be  truly  said  of  him,.h»  had 
found  &vor  before  God  and  man. 


-.<^-- 


field 

bright 

brow 


LESSON  LIXIII. 

rein-deer        re-gion 
paft-ture  hu-man 

ver-dure         re-past 

THS    BXIKDSXB. 


speed-ing 

coun-try 

scaroe-ly 


REIN^EEfl,  not  in  fields  like  ours, 
Full  (tf  grass  and  bright  with  flowen; 
Not  in  pastmre  dales,  where  gBifte 


m: 


jpLi>uud/liA/VA 


^A1 


212 


SSOOVB    BSADXB. 

£ver-flowiDg  rivers  wide ; 
Not  on  hilk,  where  verdure  bright 
Clothes  them  to  the  topmost  height, 
Hast  thou  dwelling ;  nor  dost  thou 
Feed  upon  the  orange-bough ; 
Nor  doth  olive,  nor  doth  vine, 
Bud  and  bloom  in  land  of  thine. 


\f/l^        2.  I^thy  home  and  dwelling  are 
In  a  region  Ueak  and  bare ; 
In  a  dreary  land  of  snow, 
Where  green  weeds  can  scarcely  grow ; 
Where  the  skies  are  gray  and  dreftf ; 
Where  *tis  night  for  half  the  yeai  ■;     "^ 
Reindeer,  where,  unldss  for  t^iee, 
HuTWtn  dweller  could  not  be. 

5»  Set  vmg  long  and  serving  hard, 
.Aj^Jrlsi  t^'  but  a  ^cant  reward ; 


^; 


Of  the  snow  a  short  repast, 
Or  the  mosses  cropped  in  haste. 
Reindeer,  away  I  with  all  thy  str  ogth. 
^p-?eding  o^er  the  country's  length ; 
b^aeding  onward  like  the  wind, 
With  the  sliding  sledge  behind. 


^■» 


LESSON  LXIIV. 

1    •  '  -"^E   OONPESSION.  ||| 

I  DO  not  tiiow  why  it  is  that  so  many  little 
girls  and  boys  have  a  horror  of  going  to 
confession.  Sbrely,  they  most  forget  that  con- 
fession is  like  the  plank  thrown  into  the  sea  to 
the  drowning  m&riner, — that  it  is  the  oni^ 
means  whereby  we  can  obtain  forgivenest  of 
the  sins  committed  after  baptism. 

2.  If  onr  dear  Lord  and  Savioiir  had  not 
established  this  sacrament  in  His  great  compaf- 
Sioi  for  us,  I  do  not  know  what  we  should  have 
done,  Now,  I  once  heard  of  a  little  girl  who 
was  so  dreadfully  afraid  of  going  to  confession, 
that  she  ^te  fainted  away  when  she  found 
herself  in  the  confessional  On  the  next  page 
is  a  picture  of  her,  with  her  sister  by  her  side, 
trying  to  encourage  her. 


;>pif^^^^ 


214 


SXOOITD   BBADBB. 


3.  Do  you  know  why  that  Jittle  girl  was  so 
horrili^d  at  the  thought  of  confession  ?  Why, 
because  kar  father  and  motherhad  been  so 
negligent  of^eir  duty,  as  to  allow  their  chil- 
dren to  ^gtdSw^  to  the  age  of  ten  or  twelve 
years  before  they  sent  them  to  confession.  If 
they  had  been  sent  earlier,  they  would  have 
Jbad  op  9iich  dread  of  confessing  their  sina. 


Ht 


N 


\ 


80 
BO 

Ive 
If 


THE   OOlTFBSSIOir. 


215 


i.  If  yoQ  ask  one  of  these  silly  little  people 
why  they  are  so  much  afraid;  ;the  ansinier  will, 
perhfiDs,  be:  "  Why,  how  can  11M  myosins  to 
the  ipAmt  ?  Who  knows:  but  he  -^jflf^  4f!^  of 
them  t^mebody  ek^^"  ^^x 

Foolisli^ittle  girl  er  boy t^Jiave  yoQ  -^fim 
heard  that|^e  of  tW  saints  sufi^re^  martyrdofii 
rather  than  %veal  what^ha^  been  ^Id  him  in 
confeaijion  ? 

wicked,  emperor,  who  suspected  his 
a  great  ofime,  wisJhed  to  have  h^r  con- 
tell  wh^ther,^e  was^^uiky  or  not'  put 
inlrreplied  thjtt  no  pfiest  could  spea^  to 
anyone  of  what  was  told  l\jm  in  confessidql^  and 
thavhe  could  not  qvmi  tell  whether  the  ei^press 
wwinaocent  ojr  not  \      }  / 

Hearing  this,  the  tyrant  w^  so  enraged  that 

hejbrdered  the  holy  mtin  to  be  thrown  into  the 

Id  aw,  which  was  the  name  of  the  sea  near 

palace.     It  was  done  accordingly,  and  the 

od  St.  John  Nepomucine  went  cheerfully  to 

ath  rather  than  disclose  the  secret  of  confes- 

And  so  it  is  to-day.     The  ministers  ap- 


ion. 


>inted  by  Jesus  Christ  to  tfXKmcile  the  sinner 
ith  Him,  are  never  known,  never  have  been 
lown,  to  tell  what  they  heit  ti  cobMHoil 


ifv 


^: 


^■" 


>*■*•■«)>■ 


1  11  iM»ij"'ilii'(|i)i 


T^ 


SXCOVO  ]||f^l>M4' 


«■     1ili»iM 


^^' 


LESSON  LXXY. 

f§B   TBUTSFlfXi   BOl 

^N€9|  ttoe  wiA  a  Utile  boy, 
lA  m^  hdr  and  pleaeaiti 
•^  boy  who  dkn^  loved  .1 
j|iid  never,  never  told  f 


2L  km  when  he  skipped  aw9||p 
The  chiMren  all  about 
'*  Tkmte  goes  the  carly-]^^( 
1^  boy  who  never  |bld 

^'  An^evprybody  loved  him 
%    Bf0i«M!eh»alw|y8  told  th»  troth; 
And  ot^  as  he  ^der  grcw^ 
.  TVasH^d:  "There  goes  the honeiiyc 

4  AM  when  th%people,  standing  near, 
l^oxM  turn  to  ask  tike  reason  n^,     \ 
The  iinswer  woold  be  always  this : 
"^Kiause  he  ne^  tdd  a  lie."* 

5.  Learn,  little  boys,  from  this  brave  lad, 
Like  Bm,  to  i^>eak  the  candid  tnHil ; 
That  all  may  my  of  yon  the  same: 


>i8Wliw»wiWiiWJiii'i"i 


ii|iiliiii»>«['iii»,il|" 


mtimtHmmm 


ij '11  nil  ttmmmm' 


m 


r 


i 


*r-. 


( 
i 


\ 


0 


I 


'%. 


■■>m¥^:-*)(f<^'>S/>$'m-' 


